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Old Time Gardens 



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OLD-TIME GAKDLN5 

TJeiDly 5 6/ for if) 
ALICE MOF^SE E AK.L E 



(X 3 oo K or 
THE 3WEET O' THE YEAR 



'^ife IS sweetSrofherf There's daij and ni^fit^broffierl 
Sotf) 5wee.t tfiin^s: sun, moon and stars. Brother .'aff 
sweet tfiinds : There is likewise a windon the heath" 




NEW YOIVK 

THL MAGMILLAN COMFAWY 

LONDON M AC MILLAN fyCO LTD 

MCMl 

/^// riO/ifs reserved 






Copyright, 1901, 
Bv THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Bequest 

.Albert Adsit Clemons 

Aug. 24, 1938 

(Not available for exchang©) 



Norivood Press 

J. S. dishing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 

Norivood, Mass., U.S.A. 





Contents 




CHAPTER 
I. 


Colonial Garden-making . 


PAGE 
I 


II. 


Front Dooryards . . . • 


38 


III. 


Varied Gardens Fair 


54 


IV. 


Box Edgings . . . • • 


91 


V. 


The Herb Garden . . . •• 


107 


VI. 


In Lilac Tide . . . • • 


132 


VII. 


Old Flower Favorites 


161 


VIII. 


Comfort Me with Apples . 


192 


IX. 


Gardens of the Poets 


215 


X. 


The Charm of Color 


233 


XL 


The Blue Flower Border 


252 


XII. 


Plant Names .... 


280 


XIII. 


TUSSY-MUSSIES . . . 


296 


XIV. 


Joan Silver-pin .... 


• 309 


XV. 


Childhood in a Garden 


• 326 


XVI. 


Meetin' Seed and Sabbath Day Posie 


s 341 


XVII. 


Sun-dials . . . • • 


• 353 


XVIII. 


Garden Furnishings . 


• 383 


XIX. 


Garden Boundaries . 


• 399 


XX. 


A Moonlight Garden 


• 415 


XXI. 


Flowers of Mystery . 


• 433 


XXII. 

Tmdfv 


Roses of Yesterday . 


. 459 

• 479 



List of Illustrations 



The end papers of this book bear a design of the flower Ambrosia, 

The vignette on the title-page is re-drawn from one in The Compleat 
Body of Hicshandry, Thomas Hale, 1756. It represents " Love laying out 
the surface of the earth in a garden." 

The device of the dedication is an ancient garden-knot for flowers, from 
A New Orchard and Garden, William Lawson, 1608. 

The chapter initials are from old wood-cut initials in the English 
Herbals of Gerarde, Parkinson, and Cole. 



Garden of Johnson Mansion, Geriiiantoivn. Photographed 

by Henry Troth ....... facing 4 

Garden at Gnunblethorp, Home of Charles J. IVister, Esq., 

Germantozun, Pennsylvania .7 

Garden of Bartrani House, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania . . 9 
Garden of Abigail Adams, Quincy, Massachusetts . . .10 
Garden at Mount Vernon-on-the-Potoniac, Virginia. Home of 

George Washington facing 12 

Gate and Hedge of Preston Garden, Columbia, South Carolina 1 5 
Fountain Path in Preston Garden, Columbia, South Carolina . 1 8 
Door in II 'all of Kitchen Garden at Van Cortlandt Manor. 

Croton-on-Hudson, New York. Photographed by J. 

Horace McFarland ....... facing 20 

Garden of Van Cortlandt Afanor. Photographed by J. Horace 

McFarland ........ facing 24 

Garden at Prince Homestead, Flushing, Long Island . . 28 
Old Dutch Garden of Bergen Homestead, Bay Ridge, Long 

Island ......... facing 32 

Garden at Duck Cove, N'arragansett, Rhode Island . ■ 35 

The Flowering Almond under the 1 1 'indow. Photographed by 

Eva E. Newell 39 

Peter^s Wreath. Photographed by Eva E. Newell ... 41 



List of Illustrations 



Peonies in Garden of Johti Robinson, Esq., Salem, Massachu- 
setts. Photographed by Herschel f. Davis . . facing 42 

l\ 'hite Peonies. Photographed by Mary F. C. Paschall . . 42 

Yellow Day Lilies. Photographed by Clifton Johnson .facing 48 

Orange Lilies. Photographed by Eva E. Newell ... 50 

Preston Garden, Columbia. South Carolina . . . facing 54 

Box-edged Parterre at Hampton, County Baltimore, Maryland. 
Home of Airs. John Ridgely. Photographed by Elizabeth 
W. Trescot 57 

Parterre and Clipped Box at Hampton, County Baltimore, 
Maryland. Home of Mrs. John Ridgely. Photographed 
by Elizabeth IV. Trescot ....... 60 

Garden of Mrs. Mabel Osgood IVrigld, IValdstein, Fairfield, 

Connecticut. Photographed by Mabel Osgood Wright . 63 

A Shaded Walk. In the Garden of Miss Harriet P. F. Burn- 
side, Worcester, Massachusetts. Photographed by Her- 
schel F". Davis facing 64 

Roses and Larkspur in the Garden of Miss Harriet P. F. 
Burnside, Worcester, Massachusetts. Photographed by 
Herschel F. Davis 65 

The Homely Back Yard. Photographed by Henry Troth facing 66 

Covered Well at Home of Bishop 'Berkeley, Whitehall, Neiv- 

port, Rhode Island ........ 68 

Kitchen Doorway and Porch at The Hedges, New Hope, County 

Bucks, Pennsylvania 70 

Greenwood, Thomasville, Georgia . . . . . -73 

Roses and Violets in Garden of Greenwood, TJiomasville, 

Georgia facing 74 

Water Garden at Sylvester Manor, Shelter Island, New York. 

Home of Miss Cornelia Horsford. 75 

Garden at Avonwood Court, Haverford, Pennsylvania. Coun- 
try-scat of Charles E. Mather, Esq. Photographed by 
J. Horace McFarland facing 76 

Terrace Wall at Drumthwacket, Princeton, New Jersey. 

Country-seat of M. Taylor Pyne, Esq 76 

Garden at Drumthwacket, Princeton, New Jersey. Country- 
seat of M. Taylor Pyne, Esq 77 

Sun-dial at Avonwood Court, Haverford, Pennsylvania. 
Country-seat of Charles E. Mather, Esq. Photographed 
by J. Horace McFarland facing 80 



List of Illustrations xi 



Entrance Porch and Gate to the Rose Garden at Yaddo, Sara- 
toga, New York. Country-seat of Spencer Trask, Esq. 
Photographed by Giistave Lorey 82 

Pergola and Terrace Walk m Rose Garden at Yaddo, Sara- 
toga, New York. Country-seat of Spencer Trask, Esq. 
Photographed by Gu stave Lorey . . . . '83 

Statue of Christalan in Rose Garden at Yaddo, Saratoga, New 
York. Country-seat of Spencer Trask, Esq. Photo- 
graphed by Gustave Lorey 84 

Sun-dial in Rose Garden at Yaddo, Saratoga, N'ew York. 
Country-seat of Spencer Trask, Esq. Photographed by 
Gustave Lorey . 86 

Bronze Dial-face in Rose Garden at Yaddo, Saratoga, New 
York. Country-seat of Spencer Trask, Esq. Photo- 
graphed by Giistave Lorey 87 

Ancient Pine in Garden at Yaddo, Saratoga, New York. 
Country-seat of Spencer Trask, Esq. Photographed by 
Gustave Lorey ......... 89 

House and Garden at Napanock, County Ulster, New York. 

Photographed by Edward Lanison Henry, N. A. .facing 92 

Box Parterre at Hampton, County Baltimore, Maryland. 
Home of Mrs. fohn Ridgely. Photographed by Elizabeth 
IV. Trescot 95 

Sun-dial in Box at Broughton Castle, Banbury, England. 

Garden of Lady Lennox ....... 98 

Sun-dial in Box at Ascott, near Leighton Buzzard, England. 

Country-seat of Mr. Leopold Rothschild . . facing 100 

Garden at Tudor Place, Georgetown, District of Columbia. 
Home of Mrs. Beverly Kennon. Photographed by Eliza- 
beth IV. Trescot . . . . . . . . .103 

Anchor-shaped Flower Beds, Kingston, Rhode Island. Photo- 
graphed by Sarah P. Marchant . . . . .104 

Ancient Box at Tuckahoe, Virginia . . . . . .105 

Herb Garden at White Birches, Elmhurst, Illinois . . .108 

Garden at White Birches, Elmhurst, Illinois . . . .111 

Garden of Manning Homestead, Salem, Massachusetts facing 112 

Under the Garret Eaves of Ward Homestead, Shrewsbuiy, 

Massachusetts . . . . . . . . .116 

A Gatherer of Simples. Photographed by Mary F. C. 

Paschall facing 120 



xii List of Illustrations 

PAGE 

Sage. Photographed by Mary F. C. Pa sc hall . . . .126 
Tajisy. Pliotographed by Mary P. C. Pascliall . . .129 
Garden of Mrs. Abraham Lansing, Albany, New York. Pho- 
tographed by Gustazie Lorey .... facing 130 
Ladies'' Delights. Photograplied by Eva E. Ncivell . . . 133 
Garden House and Long Walk in Garden of Hon. miliain 

H. Seward, Aitbiirn. New York . . . facing 134 

Sun-dial in Garden of Hon. William H. Seward, Auburn, 

New York 136 

Lilacs in Midsummer. In Garden of Mrs. Abraham Lan- 
sing, Albany, N'ew York. Photographed by Gustave 

Lorey facing 138 

I Macs at Craigie House, Cambridge, Massachusetts, the Home 

of Longfellow. Photographed by Arthur N. Wilinarth . 141 
Box-edged Garden at Home of Longfellow, Cambridge, Massa- 
chusetts. Photographed by Arthur N'. Wilmarth . .142 
foepye-weed and (2ueen Atine's Laces. Photographed by Mary 

P". C. Pa sc ha II 145 

Boneset. Photographed by Mary F. C. Paschall . . . 1 46 
Magnolias in Garden of William Brown, Esq., Flatbush, Long 

Island facing 148 

Lilacs at Hopewell 149 

Persian Lilacs and Peonies in Garden of Kimball Homestead, 

Portsmouth, New Hampshire 151 

Opyn-tide, the Thought of Spring. Garden of Mrs. Abraham 
Lansing, Albany, Nezu York. Photographed by Pirie 

MacDonald facing 154 

A Thought of If 'interns Snows. Garden of Frederick f. Kings- 

bury, Esq., Waterbury, Connecticut 157 

Larkspur and Phlox. Garden of Miss Frances Clary Morse^ 

Worcester, Massachusetts . . . . . . .162 

Sweet William and Foxglove 163 

Plume Poppy 164 

Meadow Rue 167 

Mo ney-in-both- Pockets 171 

Box Walk in Garden of Frederick f. Kingsbury, Esq., Water- 
bury, Connecticut 173 

Lunaria in Garden of Mrs. Mabel Osgood Wright, Fair- 
field, Connecticut. Photographed by Mabel Osgood Wright 

facing 174 



List of Illustrations xv 



PAGE 



Edging of Striped Lilies in a Salem Garden. Photographed by 

Herscliel F. Davis 283 

Garden Seat at Avonivood Court. PliotograpJied by J. Horace 

McFarland facing 286 

Terraced Garden of the Misses Nichols., Salem., Massachusetts 288 
" A Running Ribbon of Petfumed Snow which the Sun is 

jnelting rapidly.'''' At Marchant Far?n, Kingston, Rhode 

Island. Photographed by Sarah F. Marchant . . . 292 
Fountain Garden at Sylvester Matior, Shelter Island, New 

York facing 294 

Hawthorn Arch at Holly House, Peace Dale, Rhode Island. 

Home of Rowland G. Hazard. Esq. ..... 298 

Thyme-covered Graves. Photographed by Mary F. C. Paschall 301 

" U Iiite Umbrellas of Elder " 305 

Lower Garden at Sylvester Manor, Shelter Island, Nezv J 'ork 

facing 308 
" Black-heart Amorous Poppies " . . . . . -310 

Valerian. Photographed by E. C. Nichols . . . -314 
Old War Oflice in Garden at Salem, New fersey . . • 3'9 
Crown Imperial. Page from Gerarde's Herball . facing 324 

TJie Children's Garden ...... facing 330 

Foxgloves in a Narragansett Garden ..... 333 

Hollyhocks in Garden of Kimball Homestead, Portsmouth, New 

Hampshire ....... facing 334 

Autumn Hew of an Old JVorcester Garden . . facing 338 

Hollyhocks at Tudor Place, Georgetown, District of Columbia. 

Home of Mrs. Beverly Kennon . ..... 339- 

An Old Worcester Garden. Home of Edwin A. Fawcett, Esq. 

facing 340 

Caraway 342 

Sun-dial of fonathan Fairbanks, Esq., Dedham, Massachu- 
setts .... 344 

Brotize Sun-dial on Dutch Reformed Church, ll'est End 

Avenue, New J 'ork 346 

Sun-dial mounted on Boulder, Swiftwater, Pennsylvania . 347 

Buckthorn Arch in Garden of Mrs. Edward B. Peirson, 

Salem, Massachusetts. Photographed by Herschel F. 

Davis ........ facing 348 

Sim-dial at Emery Place, Brightwood, District of Columbia. 

Photographed by William Van Zandt Cox . . . 349 



xvi List of Illustrations 



PAGE 



Sun-dial at Travellers' Rest, Virginia. Home of Airs. Bowie 

Gray. Photographed by Elizabeth IV. Trescot . . -350 
Tiao Old Cronies ; the Sun-dial and Beeskepe. Photographed 

by Eva E. Neivell 354 

Portable Sun-dial from Collection of the Author . . . 356 
Sun-dial in Garden of Frederick J. Kingsbury, Esq., II 'ater- 

bury, Co)inecticHt 358 

Sun-dial at Morristown, Neiv fersey. Designed by IV. Gedney 

Beatty, Esq. ......... 359 

" Yes, Toby, ifs Three o'clock.'' fudge Daly and his Sun-dial 
at Sag Harbor, Long Island. Draivn by Edward Lamson 

Hejiry, N.A 361 

Face of Dial at Sag Harbor, Long Island .... 362 
Sun-dial in Garden of Grace Church Rectory, New York. 

Photographed by f. W. Dow 364 

Fugio Bank-note ......... 365 

Sun-dial at '■'•Washington House,'' Little Bri>igton, England . 367 
Dial-face front Mount Vernon. Owned by William F. Have- 

meyer, fr 368-' 

Sun-dial from Home of Mary Washington, Fredericksburg, 

Virginia. Photographed by Elizabeth W. Trescot . . 369 
Ken more, the Home of Betty Washington Lewis, Fredericks- 
burg, Virginia. Photographed by Elizabeth W. Trescot . 371 - 
Sun-dial in Garden of Charles T. fenkins, Esq., Germanto%vn, 

Pennsylvania ......... 373 

Sun-dial at Ophir Farm. White Plains, New York. Country- 
seat of Hon. IVhitelaw Reid . . . . . -375 

Sun-dial at Hillside, Menaud's, near Albany. New York . 378 

Old Brass and Pewter Dial-faces from Collection of Author . yjc) 

Beata Beatrix facing 380 

The Faithful Gardener 381 

A Garden Lyre at Waterford, Virginia . . . facing 384 

A Virginia Lyre with Vines 386 

Old Iron Gates at Westover-on-fames, Virginia. Photo- 
graphed by George S. Cook 388 

Ironwork in Court of Colt Mansion, Bristol, Rhode Island. 

Photographed by f. W.Dow 390 

Sharpening the Old Dutch Scythe. Photographed by Mary 

F. C. Paschall facing 392 



List of Illustrations xvii 



Suiinner-hojise at Ravensworth. County Fairfax, Virginia. 
Home of il/rs. IV. H. Fitzhiigh Lee. Pliotograplied by 
Elizabeth \l\ Trescot ....... 

Beehives at Wat erf or d., Virginia. Photographed by Henry 

TrotJi facing 394 

Beehives under the Trees. Photographed by Henry Troth . 395 
Spring House at Johnson Homestead^ Gerniantown, Pennsyl- 
vania. Photographed by Henry Troth . . . facing 396 
Dovecote at Shirley-onf antes, Virginia. From Some Colonial 
Mansions and Those who lived in Them. Published by 
Henry T. Coates &^ Co., Philadelphia .... 397 

The Peacock in his Pride -398 

The Guardian of the Garden ....... 400 

Brick Terrace I Vail at Van Cortlandt Manor. Photo- 
graphed by J. Horace McFarland . . . facing 402 
/?ai/ Fence Corner ......... 403 

Topiary Work at Levens Hall ....... 404 

Oval Pergola at Arlington, Virginia. Photographed by Eliza- 
beth W. Trescot facing 406 

French Homestead, Kingston, Rhode Island, ivith Old Stone 

Terrace Wall. Photographed by Sarah F. A/archant . 407 
Italian Garden at IVellesley, Massachusetts. Country-seat of 

Hollis H. Hunnewell, Esq. .... facing 408 

Marble Steps in Italian Garden at Wellesley, Massachusetts . 410 
Topiary Work in California . . . . . . .412 

Se?pentine Brick Wall at University of Virginia, Charlottes- 
ville, Virginia. Photographed by Elizabeth W. Trescot . 413 
Chestnut Path in Garden at Indian Hill, Newburyport, Mas- 
sachusetts. Photographed by HerscJiel F. Davis facing 418 
Foxgloves in Lower Garden at Indian Hill, Newburyport, 

Massachusetts. Photographed by Herschel F. Davis . 42 1 
Daniels Rocket. Photographed by Mary F. C. Paschall . . 424 
Snakcroot. Photographed by Mary F. G. Paschall . . . 426 
Title-page of Parkinsoti's Paradisi in Soils, etc. . facing 428 

Yuccas, like 11 'hite Marble against the Evergreens . . . 430 
Fraxinella in Garden of Miss Frances Clary Morse, U 'orces- 

ter, Massachusetts facing 432 

Love-in-a-Mist. Photographed by Henry Troth . . . 436 
Spiderwort in aii Old Worcester Garden. Photographed by 

Herschel F. Davis facing 438 



392 — 



xviii List of Illustrations 



PAGE 



Gardener's Garters at I 'an Cortlaiidt Alaiior. Fliotographed 

by J. Horace McFarland . 440 

Garden Walk at The Manse, Decrfield, Massachusetts. Photo- 
graphed by Clifton Johnson .... facing 442 

London Pride. Photographed by Eva E. Newell . . . 445 

White Fritillaria in Garden of Miss Frances Clary Morse, 



If ^orcester, Massachusetts 
Bouncing Bet ... 
Overgrown Garden at Llanerck 

by Henry Troth 
Fountain at Yaddo, Saratoga 

Spencer Trask, Esq. . 



448 

451 

Pouisylvania. I /totigraphed 

facing 454 
A'ew i 'ork. Country-seat of 

455 

Avenue of White Pines at Wellesley, Massac liusetts. Country- 
seat of Hollis H. Hunnewell, Fsq. . . . . -456 

Violets in Silver Double Coaster . . . . . .461 

Vork and Lancaster Rose at Van Cortlandt Manor. Pluito- 

graphed by J. Horace AIcFarland . . . facing 462 

Cinnamon Roses. Photographed by Mabel Osgood Wright . 465 
Cottage Garden %vith Roses. Photographed by Mary F. C. 

Paschall ........ facing 468 

Madame Plantier Rose. Photographed by Mabel Osgood 

Wright 474 

Sun-dial and Roses at Van Cortlandt Manor. Photographed 

by J. Horace McFarland facing 476 



old Time Gardens 



Old Time Gardens 



CHAPTER I 

COLONIAL GARDEN-MAKING 

" There is not a softer trait to be found in the character of those 
stern men than that they should have been sensible of these flower- 
roots clinging among the fibres of their rugged hearts, and felt the 
necessity of bringing them over sea, and making them hereditary in 
the new land." 

— American Note-book, Nathaniel Hawthorne. 




Journal that " 
and so pleasant 
and there came 
of a Garden." 

A Smell of a 
ancestors from 
perfect emblem 



FTER ten wearisome weeks of 

travel across an unknown sea, 

to an equally unknown world, 

the group of Puritan men and 

women who were the founders 

of Boston neared their Land of 

Promise ; and their noble leader, 

John Winthrop, wrote in his 

we had now fair Sunshine Weather 

a sweet Aire as did much refresh us, 

a smell off the Shore like the Smell 

Garden was the first welcome to our 
their new home ; and a pleasant and 
it was of the life that awaited them. 



2 Old Time Gardens 

They were not to become hunters and rovers, not 
to be eager to explore quickly the vast wilds beyond ; 
they were to settle down in the most domestic of 
lives, as tillers of the soil, as makers of gardens. 

What must that sweet air from the land have been 
to the sea-weary Puritan women on shipboard, laden 
to them with its promise of a garden ! for I doubt 
not every woman bore with her across seas some 
little package of seeds and bulbs from her English 
home garden, and perhaps a tiny slip or plant of 
some endeared flower ; watered each day, I fear, 
with many tears, as well as from the surprisingly 
scant water supply which we know was on board 
that ship. 

And there also came flying to the Arbella as to 
the Ark, a Dove — a bird of promise — and soon 
the ship came to anchor. 

"With hearts revived in conceit new Lands and Trees they spy. 
Scenting the Cedars and Sweet Fern from heat's reflection dry," 

wrote one colonist of that arrival, in his Good Newes 
from New England. I like to think that Sweet 
Fern, the characteristic wild perfume of New Eng- 
land, was wafted out to greet them. And then all 
went on shore in the sunshine of that ineffable time 
and season, — a New England day in June, — and 
they " gathered store of fine strawberries," just as 
their Salem friends had on a June day on the pre- 
ceding vear gathered strawberries and "sweet Single 
Roses" so resembling the English Eglantine that the 
hearts of the women must have ached within them 
with fresh homesickness. And ere long all had 



Colonial Garden-making 3 

dwelling-places, were they but humble log cabins; 
and pasture lands and commons were portioned 
out ; and in a short time all had garden-plots, and 
thus, with sheltering roof-trees, and warm firesides, 
and with gardens, even in this lonely new world, 
they had homes. The first entry in the Plymouth 
Records is a significant one ; it is the assignment 
of " Meresteads and Garden-Plotes," not mere- 
steads alone, which were farm lands, but home 
gardens : the outlines of these can still be seen in 
Plymouth town. And soon all sojourners who bore 
news back to England of the New-Englishmen and 
New-Englishwomen, told of ample store of gardens. 
Ere a year had passed hopeful John Winthrop 
wrote, " My Deare Wife, wee are here in a Para- 
dise." In four years the chronicler Wood said in 
Wis New England's Prospect^ "There is growing here 
all manner of herbs for meat and medicine, and that 
not only in planted gardens, but in the woods, with- 
out the act and help of man." Governor Endicott 
had by that time a very creditable garden. 

And by every humble dwelling the homesick 
goodwife or dame, trying to create a semblance of 
her fair English home so far away, planted in her 
" garden plot " seeds and roots of homely English 
flowers and herbs, that quickly grew and blossomed 
and smiled on bleak New England's rocky shores 
as sturdily and happily as they had bloomed in the 
old gardens and by the ancient door sides in Eng- 
land. What good cheer they must have brought i 
how they must have been beloved ! for these old 
English garden flowers are such gracious things ; 



4 Old Time Gardens 

marvels of scent, lavish of bloom, bearing such ge- 
nial faces, growing so readily and hardily, spreading 
so quickly, responding so gratefully to such little 
care: what pure refreshment they bore in their blos- 
soms, what comfort in their seeds ; they must have 
seemed an emblem of hope, a promise of a new and 
happy home. I rejoice over every one that I know 
was in those little colonial gardens, for each one 
added just so much measure of solace to what seems 
to me, as I think upon it, one of the loneliest, most 
fearsome things that gentlewomen ever had to do, 
all the harder because neither by poverty nor by un- 
avoidable stress were they forced to it ; they came 
across-seas willingly, for conscience' sake. These 
women were not accustomed to the thought of emi- 
gration, as are European folk to-day ; they had no 
friends to greet them in the new land ; they were 
to encounter wild animals and wild men; sea and 
country were unknown — they could scarce expect 
ever to return : they left everything, and took 
nothing of comfort but their Bibles and their flower 
seeds. So when I see one of the old English 
flowers, grown of those days, blooming now in my 
garden, from the unbroken chain of blossom to seed 
of nearly three centuries, I thank the flower for all 
that its forbears did to comfort my forbears, and 
I cherish it with added tenderness. 

We should have scant notion of the gardens of 
these New England colonists in the seventeenth 
century were it not for a cheerful traveller named 
John Josselyn, a man of everyday tastes and much 
inquisitiveness, and the pleasing literary style which 




o 



Colonial Garden-making ^ 

comes from directness, and an absence of self- 
consciousness. He published in 1672 a book en- 
titled New England's Rarities discovered^ etc, and 
in 1674 another volume giving an account of his 
two voyages hither in 1638 and 1663. He made a 
very careful list of vegetables which he found thriv- 
ing in the new land ; and since his flower list is the 
earliest known, I will transcribe it in full ; it isn't 
long, but there is enough in it to make it a sugges- 
tive outline which we can fill in from what we know 
of the plants to-day, and form a very fair picture 
of those gardens. 

" Spearmint, 

Rcw, will hardly grow 

Fetherfew prospereth exceedingly ; 

Southernwood, is no Plant for this Country, Nor 

Rosemary. Nor 

Bayes. 

White-Satten groweth pretty well, so doth 

Lavender-Cotton. But 

Lavender is not for the Climate. 

Penny Royal 

Smalledge. 

Ground Ivey, or Ale Hoof. 

Gilly Flowers will continue two Years. 

Fennel must be taken up, and kept in a Warm Cellar all 

Winter 
Horseleek prospereth notably 
Holly hocks 

Enula Canpana, in two years time the Roots rot. 
Comferie, with White flowers. 
Coriander, and 
Dill, and 



6 Old Time Gardens 

Annis thrive exceedingly, but Annis Seed, as also the seed of 
Fennel seldom come to maturity ; the Seed of Annis is 

commonly eaten with a Fly. 
Clary never lasts but one Summer, the Roots rot with the 

Frost. 
Sparagus thrives exceedingly, so does 
Garden Sorrel, and 
Sweet Bryer or Eglantine 
Bloodwort but sorrily, but 
Patience and 

English Roses very pleasantly. 
Celandine, by the West Country now called Kenning 

Wort grows but slowly. 
Muschater, as well as in England 

Dittander or Pepperwort flourisheth notably and so doth 
Tansie." 

These lists were published fifty years after the 
landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth ; from them 
we find that the country was just as well stocked 
with vegetables as it was a hundred years later when 
other travellers made lists, but the flowers seem 
few ; still, such as they were, they formed a goodly 
sight. With rows of Hollyhocks glowing against 
the rude stone walls and rail fences of their little 
yards ; with clumps of Lavender Cotton and Honesty 
and Gillyflowers blossoming freely; with Feverfew 
" prospering " to sow and slip and pot and give to 
neighbors just as New England women have done 
with Feverfew every year of the centuries that have 
followed; with " a Rose looking in at the window" 
— a Sweetbrier, Eglantine, or English Rose — 
these colonial dames might well find " Patience 



Colonial Garden-making 7 

growing very pleasantly " in their hearts as in their 
gardens. 

They had plenty of pot herbs for their accustomed 
savoring; and plenty of medicinal herbs for their 




Garden at Grumblethorp, Germantown, Pennsylvania. 



wonted dosing. Shakespeare's "nose-herbs" were 
not lacking. Doubtless they soon added to these 
garden flowers many of our beautiful native blooms, 
rejoicing if they resembled any beloved English 



8 Old Time Gardens 

flowers, and quickly giving them, as we know, 
familiar old English plant-names. 

And there were other garden inhabitants, as truly 
English as were the cherished flowers, the old gar- 
den weeds, which quickly found a home and thrived 
in triumph in the new soil. Perhaps the weed seeds 
came over in the flower-pot that held a sheltered 
plant or cutting ; perhaps a few were mixed with 
garden seeds ; perhaps they were in the straw or 
other packing of household goods : no one knew 
the manner of their coming, but there they were, 
Motherwort, Groundsel, Chickweed, and Wild Mus- 
tard, Mullein and Nettle, Henbane and Wormwood. 
Many a goodwife must have gazed in despair at 
the persistent Plantain, "the Englishman's foot," 
which seems to have landed in Plymouth from the 
Mayflower. 

Josselyn made other lists of plants which he 
found in America, under these headings: — 

"Such plants as are common with us in England. 

Such plants as are proper to the Country. 

Such plants as are proper to the Country and have no 

name. 
Such plants as have sprung up since the English planted, 

and kept cattle in New England." 

In these lists he gives a surprising number of 
English weeds which had thriven and rejoiced in 
their new home. 

Mr. Tuckerman calls Josselyn's list of the fishes 
of the new world a poor makeshift ; his various 
lists of plants are better, but they are the lists of 



Colonial Garden-making 9 

an herbalist, not of a botanist. He had some acquain- 
tance with the practice of physic, of which he narrates 
some examples ; and an interest in kitchen recipes, 
and included a few in his books. He said that Par- 
kinson or another botanist might have "found in 




Garden of the Bartram House, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 

New England a thousand, at least, of plants never 
heard of nor seen by any Englishman before," and 
adds that he was himself an indifferent observer. 
He certainly lost an extraordinary opportunity of 
distinguishing himself, indeed of immortalizing him- 
self; and it is surprising that he was so heedless, 
for Englishmen of that day were in general eager 
botanists. The study of plants was new, and was 



lO 



Old Time Gardens 



deemed of such absorbing interest and fascination 
that some rigid Puritans feared they might lose 
their immortal souls through making their new 
plants their idols. 

When Josselyn wrote, but few of our American 
flowers were known to European botanists; Indian 




Garden ot Abigail Adams. 



Corn, Pitcher Plant, Columbine, Milkweed, Ever- 
lasting, and Arbor-vitas had been described in printed 
books, and the Evening Primrose. A history of 
Canadian and other new plants, by Dr. Cornuti, had 
been printed in Europe, giving thirty-seven of our 
plants ; and all English naturalists were longing 
to add to the list ; the ships which brought over 



Colonial Garden-making ii 

homely seeds and plants for the gardens of the 
colonists carried back rare American seeds and plants 
for English physic gardens. 

In Pennsylvania, from the first years of the set- 
tlement, William Penn encouraged his Quaker 
followers to plant English flowers and fruit in 
abundance, and to try the fruits of the new world. 
Father Pastorius, in his Germantown settlement, 
assigned to each family a garden-plot of three acres, 
as befitted a man who left behind him at his death 
a manuscript poem of many thousand words on the 
pleasures of gardening, the description of flowers, 
and keeping of bees. George Fox, the founder of 
the Friends, or Quakers, died in 1690. He had 
travelled in the colonies ; and in his will he left 
sixteen acres of land to the Quaker meeting in 
the city of Philadelphia. Of these sixteen acres, 
ten were for " a close to put Friends' horses in 
when they came afar to the Meeting, that they 
may not be Lost in the Woods," while the other 
six were for a site for a meeting-house and school- 
house, and " for a Playground for the Children 
of the town to Play on, and for a Garden to plant 
with Physical Plants, for Lads and Lasses to know 
Simples, and to learn to make Oils and Oint- 
ments." Few as are these words, they convey a 
positive picture of Fox's intent, and a pleasing 
picture it is. He had seen what interest had been 
awakened and what instruction conveyed through 
the " Physick-Garden " at Chelsea, England ; and 
he promised to himself similar interest and informa- 
tion from the study of plants and flowers by the 



12 Old Time Gardens 

Quaker "lads and lasses" of the new world. Though 
nothing came from this bequest, there was .a later 
fulfilment of Fox's hopes in the estabHshment of 
a successful botanic garden in Philadelphia, and, in 
the planting, growth, and flourishing in the province 
of Pennsylvania of the loveliest gardens in the new 
world ; there floriculture reached by the time of the 
Revolution a very high point; and many exquisite 
gardens bore ample testimony to the " pride of life," 
as well as to the good taste and love of flowers 
of Philadelphia Friends. The garden at Grumble- 
thorp, the home of Charles J. Wister, Esq., of 
Germantown, Pennsylvania, shown on page 7, dates 
to colonial days and is still flourishing and beautiful. 
In 1728 was established, by John Bartram, in 
Philadelphia, the first botanic garden in America. 
The ground on which it was planted, and the stone 
dwelling-house he built thereon in 1731, are now 
part of the park system of Philadelphia. A view 
of the garden as now in cultivation is given on 
page 9, Bartram travelled much in America, and 
through his constant correspondence and flower 
exchanges with distinguished botanists and plant 
growers in Europe, many native American plants 
became well known in foreign gardens, among them 
the Lady's Slipper and Rhododendron. He was a 
Quaker, — a quaint and picturesque figure, — and 
his example helped to establish the many fine gar- 
dens in the vicinity of Philadelphia. The example 
and precept of Washington also had important in- 
fluence ; for he was constant in his desire and his 
effx)rt to secure every good and new plant, grain, 




o 



o 



Colonial Garden-making 13 

shrub, and tree for his home at Mount Vernon. 
A beautiful tribute to his good taste and that of 
his wife still exists in the Mount Vernon flower 
garden, which in shape, Box edgings, and many- 
details is precisely as it was in their day. A view 
of its well-ordered charms is shown opposite page 
12. Whenever I walk in this garden I am deeply 
grateful to the devoted women who keep it in such 
perfection, as an object-lesson to us of the dignity, 
comeliness, and beauty of a garden of the olden 
times. 

There is little evidence that a general love and 
cultivation of flowers was as common in humble 
homes in the Southern colonies as in New England 
and the Middle provinces. The teeming abun- 
dance near the tropics rendered any special garden- 
ing unnecessary for poor folk ; flowers grew and 
blossomed lavishly everywhere without any coaxing 
or care. On splendid estates there were splendid 
gardens, which have nearly all suffered by the devas- 
tations of war — in some towns they were thrice 
thus scourged. So great was the beauty of these 
Southern gardens and so vast the love they pro- 
voked in their owners, that in more than one case 
the life of the garden's master was merged in that 
of the garden. The British soldiers during the 
War of the Revolution wantonly destroyed the ex- 
quisite flowers at " The Grove," just outside the 
city of Charleston, and their owner, Mr. Gibbes, 
dropped dead in grief at the sight of the waste. 

The great wealth of the Southern planters, their 
constant and extravagant following of English cus- 



14 Old Time Gardens 

toms and fashions, their fertile soil and favorable 
climate, and their many slaves, all contributed to 
the successful making of elaborate gardens. Even 
as early as 1682 South Carolina gardens were de- 
clared to be " adorned with such Flowers as to the 
Smell or Eye are pleasing or agreeable, as the Rose, 
Tulip, Lily, Carnation, &c." William Byrd wrote 
of the terraced gardens of Virginia homes. Charles- 
ton dames vied with each other in the beauty of 
their gardens, and Mrs. Logan, when seventy years 
old, in 1779, wrote a treatise called The Gardener s 
Kalendar. EHza Lucas Pinckney of Charleston 
was devoted to practical floriculture and horticulture. 
Her introduction of indigo raising into South Caro- 
lina revolutionized the trade products of the state 
and brought to it vast wealth. Like many other 
women and many men of wealth and culture at that 
time, she kept up a constant exchange of letters, 
seeds, plants, and bulbs with English people of like 
tastes. She received from them valuable English 
seeds and shrubs ; and in turn she sent to England 
what were so eagerly sought by English flower 
raisers, our native plants. The good will and na- 
tional pride of ship captains were enlisted ; even 
young trees of considerable size were set in hogs- 
heads, and transported, and cared for during the 
long voyage. 

The garden at Mount Vernon is probably the 
oldest in Virginia still in original shape. In Mary- 
land are several fine, formal gardens which do not 
date, however, to colonial days ; the beautiful one 
at Hampton, the home of the Ridgelys, in Balti- 



Colonial Garden-making 



15 



more County, is shown on pages 57, 60 and 95. 
In both North and South Carolina the gardens 
were exquisite. Many were laid out by compe- 
tent landscape gardeners, and were kept in order 
by skilled workmen, negro slaves, who were care- 
fully trained from childhood to special labor, such 




Gate and Hedge of Preston Garden. 



as topiary work. In Camden and Charleston the 
gardens vied with the finest English manor-house 
gardens. Remains of their beauty exist, despite de- 
vastating wars and earthquakes. Views of the Pres- 
ton Garden, Columbia, South Carolina, are shown 
on pages 15 and 18 and facing page 54. They 
are now the grounds of the Presbyterian College 



i6 Old Time Gardens 

for Women. The hedges have been much reduced 
within a few years; but the garden still bears a 
surprising resemblance to the Garden of the Gen- 
eralife, Granada. The Spanish garden- has fewer 
flowers and more fountains, yet I think it must 
have been the model for the Preston Garden. 
The climax of magnificence in Southern gardens 
has been for years, at Magnolia-on-the-Ashley, 
the ancestral home of the Dray tons since 1671. 
It is impossible to describe the affluence of color 
in this garden in springtime ; masses of unbroken 
bloom on giant Magnolias; vast Camellia Japonicas, 
looking, leaf and flower, thoroughly artificial, as 
if made of solid wax ; splendid Crape Myrtles, 
those strange flower-trees; mammoth Rhododen- 
drons; Azaleas of every Azalea color, — all sur- 
rounded by walls of the golden Banksia Roses, and 
hedges covered with Jasmine and Honeysuckle. 
The Azaleas are the special glory of the garden ; 
the bushes are fifteen to twenty feet in height, and 
fifty or sixty feet in circumference, with rich blos- 
soms running over and crowding down on the 
ground as if color had been poured over the bushes ; 
they extend in vistas of vivid hues as far as the eye 
can reach. All this gay and brilliant color is over- 
hung by a startling contrast, the most sombre and 
gloomy thing in nature, great Live-oaks heavily 
draped with gray Moss ; the avenue of largest Oaks 
was planted two centuries ago. 

I give no picture of this Drayton Garden, for a 
photograph of these many acres of solid bloom is a 
meaningless thing. Even an oil painting of it is 



Colonial Garden-making ly 

confused and disappointing. In the garden itself 
the excess of color is as cloying as its surfeit of 
scent pouring from the thousands of open flower 
cups ; we long for green hedges, even for scanter 
bloom and for fainter fragrance. It is not a garden 
to live in, as are our box-bordered gardens of the 
North, our cheerful cottage borders, and our well- 
balanced Italian gardens, so restful to the eye; it is 
a garden to look at and wonder at. 

The Dutch settlers brought their love of flower- 
ing bulbs, and the bulbs also, to the new world. 
Adrian Van der Donck, a gossiping visitor to New 
Netherland when the little town of New Amsterdam 
had about a thousand inhabitants, described the fine 
kitchen gardens, the vegetables and fruits, and gave 
an interesting list of garden flowers which he found 
under cultivation by the Dutch vrouws. He says : 

" Of the Flowers. The flowers hi general which the 
Netherlanders have introduced there are the white and red 
roses of different kinds, the cornelian roses, and stock roses; 
and those ot which there were none before in the country, 
such as eglantine, several kinds of gillyflowers, jenoffelins, 
different varieties of fine tulips, crown imperials, white 
lilies, the lily frutularia, anemones, baredames, violets, mari- 
golds, summer sots, etc. The clove tree has also been 
introduced, and there are various indigenous trees that 
bear handsome flowers, which are unknown in the Nether- 
lands. We also find there some flowers of native growth, 
as, for instance, sunflowers, red and yellow lilies, moun- 
tain lilies, morning stars, red, white, and yellow maritoffles 
(a very sweet flower), several species of bell flowers, etc., 
to which I have not given particular attention, but amateurs 
c 



1 8 Old Time Gardens 

would hold them in high estimation and make them widely 
known." 

I wish I knew what a Cornelian Rose was, and 
JenofFelins, Baredames, and Summer Sots ; and 
what the Lilies were and the Maritoffles and Bell 
Flowers. They all sound so cheerful and homelike 




Fountain Path in Preston Garden, Columbia, South Carolina. 

— just as if they bloomed well. Perhaps the Cor- 
nelian Rose may have been striped red and white 
like cornelian stone, and like our York and Lan- 
caster Rose. 

Tulips are on all seed and plant lists of colonial 
days, and they were doubtless in every home door- 
yard in New Netherland. Governor Peter Stuy- 
vesant had a fine farm on the Bouwerie, and is said 



Colonial Garden-making 19 

to have had a flower garden there and at his home, 
White Hall, at the Battery, for he had forty or fifty 
negro slaves who were kept at work on his estate. 
In the city of New York many fine formal gardens 
lingered, on what are now our most crowded streets, 
till within the memory of persons now living. One 
is described as full of " Paus bloemen of all hues, 
Laylocks, and tall May Roses and Snowballs inter- 
mixed with choice vegetables and herbs all bounded 
and hemmed in by huge rows of neatly-clipped Box- 
edgings." 

An evidence of increase in garden luxury in 
New York is found in the advertisement of one 
Theophilus Hardenbrook, in 1750, a practical sur- 
veyor and architect, who had an evening school 
for teaching architecture. He designed pavilions, 
summer-houses, and garden seats, and" Green-houses 
for the preservation of Herbs with winding Funnels 
through the walls so as to keep them warm." A 
picture of the green-house of James Beekman, of 
New York, 1764, still exists, a primitive little affair. 
The first glass-house in North America is believed 
to be one built in Boston for Andrew Faneuil, who 
died in 1737. 

Mrs. Anne Grant, writing of her life near Albany 
in the middle of the eighteenth century, gives a very 
good description of the Schuyler garden. Skulls 
of domestic animals on fence posts, would seem 
astounding had I not read of similar decorations 
in old Continental gardens. Vines grew over these 
grisly fence-capitals and birds built their nests in 
them, so in time the Dutch housewife's peaceful 



20 Old Time Gardens 

kitchen garden ceased to resemble the kraal of an 
African chieftain ; to this day, in South Africa, na- 
tives and Dutch Boers thus set up on gate posts the 
skulls of cattle. 

Mrs. Grant writes of the Dutch in Albany : — ' 

" The care of plants, such as needed peculiar care or 
skill to rear them, was the female province. Every one in 
town or country had a garden. Into this garden no foot of 
man intruded after it was dug in the Spring. I think I see 
yet what I have so often beheld — a respectable mistress 
of a family going out to her garden, on an April morning, 
with her great calash, her little painted basket of seeds, and 
her rake over her shoulder to her garden of labours. A 
woman in very easy circumstances and abundantly gentle 
in form and manners would sow and plant and rake in- 
cessantly." 

We have happily a beautiful example of the old 
Dutch manor garden, at Van Cortlandt Manor, at 
Croton-on-Hudson, New York, still in the posses- 
sion of the Van Cortlandt family. It is one of the 
few gardens in America that date really to colonial 
days. The manor house was built in 1681 ; it is 
one of those fine old Dutch homesteads of which 
we still have many existing throughout New York, 
in which dignity, comfort, and fitness are so hap- 
pily combined. These homes are, in the words of 
a traveller of colonial days, "so pleasant in their 
building, and contrived so delightful." Above all, 
they are so suited to their surroundings that they 
seem an intrinsic part of the landscape, as they do 
of the old life of this Hudson River Valley. 




Door in Wall of Kitchen Garden at Van Cortlandt Manor. 



Colonial Garden-making 2i 

I do not doubt that this Van Cortlandt garden 
was laid out when the house was built; much of it 
must be two centuries old. It has been extended, not 
altered; and the grass-covered bank supporting the 
upper garden was replaced by a brick terrace wall 
about sixty years ago. Its present form dates to the 
days when New York was a province. The upper 
garden is laid out in formal flower beds ; the lower 
border is rich in old vines and shrubs, and all the 
beloved old-time hardy plants. There is in the 
manor-house an ancient portrait of the child Pierre 
Van Cortlandt, painted about the year 1732. He 
stands by a table bearing a vase filled with old gar- 
den flowers — Tulip, Convolvulus, Harebell, Rose, 
Peony, Narcissus, and Flowering Almond ; and it 
is the pleasure of the present mistress of the manor, 
to see that the garden still holds all the great-grand- 
father's flowers. 

There is a vine-embowered old door in the wall 
under the piazza (see opposite page 20) which opens 
into the kitchen and fruit garden ; a wall-door so 
quaint and old-timey that I always remind me of 
Shakespeare's lines in Measure for Measure : — 

• ** He hath a garden circummured with brick. 

Whose western side is with a Vineyard back'd ; 
And to that Vineyard is a planched gate 
That makes his opening with this bigger key : 
The other doth command a little door 
Which from the Vineyard to the garden leads." 

The long path is a beautiful feature of this gar- 
den (it is shown in the picture of the garden oppo- 



22 Old Time Gardens 

site page 24) ; it dates certainly to the middle of 
the eighteenth century. Pierre Van Cortlandt, the 
son of the child with the vase of flowers, and grand- 
father of the present generation bearing his surname, 
was born in 1762. He well recalled playing along 
this garden path when he was a child ; and that one 
day he and his little sister Ann (Mrs. Philip Van 
Rensselaer) ran a race along this path and through 
the garden to see who could first " see the baby " 
and greet their sister, Mrs. Beekman, who came 
riding to the manor-house up the hill from Tarry- 
town, and through the avenue, which shows on th-e 
right-hand side of the garden-picture. This beauti- 
ful young woman was famed everywhere for her 
grace and loveliness, and later equally so for her 
intelligence and goodness, and the prominent part 
she bore in the War of the Revolution. She was 
seated on a pillion behind her husband, and she car- 
ried proudly in her arms her first baby (afterward 
Dr. Beekman) wrapped in a scarlet cloak. This is 
one of the home-pictures that the old garden holds. 
Would we could paint it ! 

In this garden, near the house, is a never failing 
spring and well. The house was purposely built 
near it, in those days of sudden attacks by Ind- 
ians ; it has proved a fountain of perpetual youth 
for the old Locust tree, which shades it; a tree more 
ancient than house or garden, serene and beauti- 
ful in its hearty old age. Glimpses of this manor- 
house garden and its flowers are shown on many 
pages of this book, but they cannot reveal its 
beauty as a whole — its fine proportions, its noble 



Colonial Garden-making 23 

background, its splendid trees, its turf, its beds of 
bloom. Oh ! how beautiful a garden can be, when 
for two hundred years it has been loved and cher- 
ished, ever nurtured, ever guarded ; how plainly it 
shows such care ! 

Another Dutch garden is pictured opposite page 
32, the garden of the Bergen Homestead, at Bay 
Ridge, Long Island. Let me quote part of its 
description, written by Mrs. Tunis Bergen: — 

" Over the half-open Dutch door you look through the 
vines that climb about the stoop, as into a vista of the 
past. Beyond the garden is the great Quince orchard of 
hundreds of trees in pink and white glory. This orchard 
has a story which you must pause in the garden to hear. 
In the Library at Washington is preserved, in quaint man- 
uscript, 'The Battle of Brooklyn,' a farce written and said 
to have been performed during the British occupation. 
The scene is partly laid in ' the orchard ot one Bergen,' 
where the British hid their horses after the battle of Long 
Island — this is the orchard ; but the blossoming Quince 
trees tell no tale of past carnage. At one side of the 
garden is a quaint little building with moss-grown roof and 
climbing hop-vine — the last slave kitchen left standing in 
New York — on the other side are rows of homely bee- 
hives. The old Locust tree overshadowing is an ancient 
landmark — it was standing in i6go. For some years it 
has worn a chain to bind its aged limbs together. All this 
beauty of tree and flower lived till 1890, when it was 
swept away by the growing city. Though now but a 
memory, it has the perfume of its past flowers about it." 

The Locust was so often a "home tree" and so 
fitting a one, that I have grown to associate ever 



!24 Old Time Gardens 

with these Dutch homesteads a Hght-leaved Locust 
tree, shedding its beautiful flickering shadows on 
the long roof, I wonder whether there was any 
association or tradition that made the Locust the 
house-friend in old New York ! 

The first nurseryman in the new world was 
stern old Governor Endicott of Salem. In 1644 
he wrote to Governor Winthrop, " My children 
burnt mee at least 500 trees by setting the ground 
on fire neere them " — which was a very pretty piece 
of mischief for sober Puritan children. We find all 
thoughtful men of influence and prominence in all 
the colonies raising various fruits, and selling trees 
and plants, but they had no independent business 
nurseries. 

If tradition be true, it is to Governor Endicott 
we owe an indelible dye on the landscape of eastern 
Massachusetts in midsummer. The Dyer's-weed 
or Woad-waxen {Genista tinctoria), which, in July, 
covers hundreds of acres in Lynn, Salem, Swamp- 
scott, and Beverly with its solid growth and brill- 
iant yellow bloom, is said to have been brought to 
this country as the packing of some of the gov- 
ernor's household belongings. It is far more prob- 
able that he brought it here to raise it in his garden 
for dyeing purposes, with intent to benefit the col- 
ony, as he did other useful seeds and plants. Woad- 
waxen, or Broom, is a persistent thing; it needs 
scythe, plough, hoe, and bitter labor to eradicate 
it. I cannot call it a weed, for it has seized only 
poor rock-filled land, good for naught else ; and the 
radiant beauty of the Salem landscape for many 




o 



Colonial Garden-making 25 

weeks makes us forgive its persistence, and thank 
Endicott for bringing it here. 

'* The Broom, 
Full-flowered and visible on every steep. 
Along the copses runs in veins of gold. " 

The Broom flower is the emblem of mid-summer, 
the hottest yellow flower I know — it seems to throw 
out heat. I recall the first time I saw it growing ; I 
was told that it was " Salem Wood-wax." I had 
heard of " Roxbury Waxwork," the Bitter-sweet, but 
this was a new name, as it was a new tint of yellow, 
and soon I had its history, for I find Salem people 
rather proud both of the flower and its story. 

Oxeye Daisies (Whiteweed) are also by vague tra- 
dition the children of Governor Endicott's planting. 
I think it far more probable that they were planted 
and cherished by the wives of the colonists, when 
their beloved English Daisies were found unsuited 
to New England's climate and soil. We note the 
Woad-waxen and Whiteweed as crowding usurpers, 
not only because they are persistent, but because 
their great expanses of striking bloom will not let 
us forget them. Many other English plants are 
just as determined intruders, but their modest dress 
permits them to slip in comparatively unobserved. 

It has ever been characteristic of the British colo- 
nist to carry with him to any new home the flowers 
of old England and Scotland, and characteristic 
of these British flowers to monopolize the earth. 
Sweetbrier is called " the missionary-plant," by 
the Maoris in New Zealand, and is there regarded 



26 Old Time Gardens 

as a tiresome weed, spreading and holding the 
ground. Some homesick missionary or his more 
homesick wife bore it there ; and her love of the 
home plant impressed even the savage native. We 
all know the story of the Scotch settlers who car- 
ried their beloved Thistles to Tasmania " to make 
it seem like home," and how they lived to regret 
it. Vancouver's Island is completely overrun with 
Broom and wild Roses from England. 

The first commercial nursery in America, in the 
sense of the term as we now employ it, was estab- 
lished about 1730 by Robert Prince, in Flushing, 
Long Island, a community chiefly of French Hu- 
guenot settlers, who brought to the new world many 
French fruits by seed and cuttings, and also a love of 
horticulture. For over a century and a quarter these 
Prince Nurseries were the leading ones in Amer- 
ica. The sale of fruit trees was increased in 1774 
(as we learn from advertisements in the New Tork 
Mercury of that year), by the sale of " Carolina 
Magnolia flower trees, the most beautiful trees that 
grow in America, and 50 large Catalpa flower trees ; 
they are nine feet high to the under part of the top 
and thick as one's leg," also other flowering trees 
and shrubs. 

The fine house built on the nursery grounds by 
William Prince suffered little during the Revolu- 
tion. It was occupied by Washington and after- 
wards house and nursery were preserved from 
depredations by a guard placed by General Howe 
when the British took possession of Flushing. Of 
course, domestic nursery business waned in time of 



Colonial Garden-making 27 

war ; but an excellent demand for American shrubs 
and trees sprung up among the officers of the British 
army, to send home to gardens in England and Ger- 
many. Many an English garden still has ancient 
plants and trees from the Prince Nurseries. 

The " Einnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries " 
and the " Old American Nursery " thrived once 
more at the close of the war, and William Prince 
the second entered in charge ; one of his earliest 
ventures of importance was the introduction of 
Lombardy Poplars. In 1798 he advertises ten 
thousand trees, ten to seventeen feet in height. 
These became the most popular tree in America, 
the emblem of democracy — and a warmly hated 
tree as well. The eighty acres of nursery grounds 
were a centre of botanic and horticultural interest 
for the entire country ; every tree, shrub, vine, and 
plant known to England and America was eagerly 
sought for ; here the important botanical treasures 
of Lewis and Clark found a home. William Prince 
wrote several notable horticultural treatises ; and 
even his trade catalogues were prized. He estab- 
lished the first steamboats between Flushing and 
New York, built roads and bridges on Long Isl- 
and, and was a public-spirited, generous citizen 
as well as a man of science. His son, WilHam 
Robert Prince, who died in 1869, was the last to 
keep up the nurseries, which he did as a scientific 
rather than a commercial establishment. He bota- 
nized the entire length of the Atlantic States with 
Dr. Torrey, and sought for collections of trees and 
wild flowers in California with the same eagerness 



28 



Old Time Gardens 



that others there sought gold. He was a devoted 
promoter of the native silk industry, having vast 
plantations of Mulberries in many cities ; for one 
at Norfolk, Virginia, he was offered 1 100,000. It 
is a curious fact that the interest in Mulberry cul- 
ture and the practice of its cultivation was so uni- 




Garden at Prince Homestead, Flushing, Long Island. 



versal in his neighborhood (about the year 1830), 
that cuttings of the Chinese Mulberry (Morus multi- 
caulis) were used as currency in all the stores in the 
vicinity of Flushing, at the rate of 12^ cents each. 

The Prince homestead, a fine old mansion, is 
here shown ; it is still standing, surrounded by that 
forlorn sight, a forgotten garden. This is of con- 
siderable extent, and evidences of its past dignity 



Colonial Garden-making 29 

appear in the hedges and edgings of Box ; one 
symmetrical great Box tree is fifty feet in circumfer- 
ence. Flowering shrubs, unkempt of shape, bloom 
and beautify the waste borders each spring, as do the 
oldest Chinese Magnolias in the United States. 
Gingkos, Paulownias, and weeping trees, which need 
no gardener's care, also flourish and are of unusual 
size. There are some splendid evergreens, such as 
Mt. Atlas Cedars ; and the oldest and finest Cedar 
of Lebanon in the United States. It seemed sad, 
as I looked at the evidences of so much past beauty 
and present decay, that this historic house and gar- 
den should not be preserved for New York, as the 
house and garden of John Bartram, the Philadelphia 
botanist, have been for his native city. 

While" there are few direct records of American 
gardens in the eighteenth century, we have many in- 
structing side glimpses through old business letter- 
books. We find Sir Harry Frankland ordering 
Daffodils and Tulips for the garden he made for 
Agnes Surriage ; and it is said that the first Lilacs 
ever seen in Hopkinton were planted by him for 
her. The gay young nobleman and the lovely 
woman are in the dust, and of all the beautiful 
things belonging to them there remain a splendid 
Portuguese fan, which stands as a memorial of that 
tragic crisis in their life — the great Lisbon earth- 
quake ; and the Lilacs, which still mark the site of 
her house and blossom each spring as a memorial of 
the shadowed romance of her life in New England. 

Let me give two pages from old letters to illus- 
trate what I mean by side glimpses at the contents 



30 Old Time Gardens 

of colonial gardens. The fine Hancock mansion in 
Boston had a carefully-filled garden long previous 
to the Revolution. Such letters as the following 
were sent by Mr. Hancock to England to secure 
flowers for it : — 

" My Trees and Seeds for Capt. Bennett Came Safe to 
Hand and I like them very well. I Return you my hearty 
Thanks for the Plumb Tree and Tulip Roots you were 
pleased to make me a Present off, which are very Accep- 
table to me. I have Sent my friend Mr. Wilks a mmo. 
to procure for me 2 or 3 Doz. Yew Trees, SomeHollys 
and Jessamine Vines, and if you have Any Particular Curious 
Things not of a high Price, will Beautifye a flower Garden 
Send a Sample with the Price or a Catalogue of 'em, I do 
not intend to spare Any Cost or Pains in making my 
Gardens Beautifull or Profitable. 

" P.S. The Tulip Roots you were Pleased to make a 
present off to me are all Dead as well." 

We find Richard Stockton writing in 1766 
from England to his wife at their beautiful home 
" Morven," in Princeton, New Jersey: — 

" I am making you a charming collection of bulbous roots, 
which shall be sent over as soon as the prospect of freezing 
on your coast is over. The first of April, I believe, will be 
time enough for you to put them in your sweet little flower 
garden, which you so fondly cultivate. Suppose I inform 
you that I design a ride to Twickenham the latter end of 
next month principally to view Mr. Pope's gardens and 
grotto, which I am told remain nearly as he left them ; 
and that I shall take with me a gentleman who draws well, 
to lay down an exact plan of the whole." 



Colonial Garden-making 



31 



The fine line of Catalpa trees set out by Richard 
Stockton, along the front of his lawn, were in full 
flower when he rode up to his house on a memor- 
able July day to tell his wife that he had signed 
the Declaration of American Independence. Since 
then Catalpa trees bear everywhere in that vicinity 




Old Box at Prince Homestead. 

the name of Independence trees, and are believed 
to be ever in bloom on July 4th. 

In the delightful diary and letters of Eliza South- 
gate Bowne {A Girl's Life Eighty Years Agd)^ are 
other side glimpses of the beautiful gardens of old 
Salem, among them those of the wealthy mer- 
chants of the Derby family. Terraces and arches 



32 Old Time Gardens 

show a formality of arrangement, for they were laid 
out bv a Dutch gardener whose descendants still 
live in Salem. All had summer-houses, which were 
larger and more important buildings than what are 
to-dav termed summer-houses ; these latter were 
known in Salem and throutrhout \ irginia as bowers. 
One simimer-house had an arch through it with three 
doors on each side which opened into little apart- 
ments ; one of them had a staircase by which you 
could ascend into a large upper room, which was the 
whole size of the building. This was constructed 
to command a line view, and was ornamented with 
Chinese articles ot varied interest and value ; it was 
used for tea-drinkings. At the end of the garden, 
concealed by a dense Weeping Willow, was a thatched 
hermitage, containing the life-size figure of a man 
reading a praver-book ; a bed of straw and some 
broken furniture completed the picture. I'his was 
an English fashion, seen at one time in many old 
English trardens, and held to be most romantic. 
Apparently summer evenings were spent by the 
Derby household and their visitors wholly in the 
garden and summer-house. The diarv keeper writes 
naively, " The moon shines brighter in this garden 
than anywhere else." 

The shrewd and capable women of the colonies 
who entered so freely and successtuUy into business 
ventures found the selling of flower seeds a con- 
genial occupation, and often added it to the pursuit 
ot other callings. I think it must have been very 
pleasant to buy packages of flower seed at the same 
time and place where you bought your best bonnet. 




o 



o 



Colonial Garden-making 



33 



and have all sent home in a bandbox together ; each 
would prove a memorial of the other ; and long 
after the glory of the bonnet had departed, and the 
bonnet itself was ashes, the thriving Sweet Peas and 
Larkspur would recall its becoming charms. I have 
often seen the advertisements of these seedswomen 
in old newspapers ; unfortunately they seldom gave 
printed lists of their store of seeds. Here is one 
list printed in a Boston newspaper on March 30, 
1760: — 



Lavender. 
Palma Christ!. 
Cerinthe or Honeywort, 

loved of bees. 
Tricolor. 
Indian Pink. 
Scarlet Cacalia. 
Yellow Sultans. 
Lemon African Marigold. 
Sensitive Plants. 
White Lupine. 
Love Lies Bleeding, 
Patagonian Cucumber. 
Lobelia. 
Catchfly. 
Wing-peas. 
Convolvulus. 
Strawberry Spinage. 
Branching Larkspur. 
White Chrysanthemum. 
Nigaella Romano. 
Rose Campion. 
Snap Dragon. 

D 



Nolana prostrata. 
Summer Savory. 
Hyssop. 

Red Hawkweed. 
Red and White Lavater. 
Scarlet Lupine. 
Large blue Lupine. 
Snuff flower. 
Caterpillars. 
Cape Marigold. 
Rose Lupine. 
Sweet Peas. 
Venus' Navelwort. 
Yellow Chrysanthemum. 
Cyanus minor. 
Tall Holyhock. 
French Marigold. 
Carnation Poppy. 
Globe Amaranthus. 
Yellow Lupine. 
Indian Branching Cox- 
combs. 
Iceplants. 



34 Old rime Ci;irdciis 

Thvmc. Sweet William. 

Sweet Marjoram. Hoiiestv (^to be sold in small 
Tree Mallows. parcels that e\ erv one mav 

Everlasting. have a little). 

Greek \'alerian. Persicaria. 

Tree Primrose. Polyanthos. 

Canterbiirv Bells. 50 Dirferent Sorts of mixed 
Purple Stock. Tulip Roots. 

Sweet Scabiouse. Ranunculus 

Columbine. Ciladiolus. 

Pleasant-eved Pink. Starrv Scabiouse. 

Dwarf Mountain Pink. Curled Mallows. 

Sweet Rocket. Painted Lady topknot peas. 

Horn Popp\ . Colchicum. 

French Honevsuckle. Persian Iris. 

Bloody Walltiower. Star Bethlehem. 

This list is certainly ;i pleasing on^. It gives 
opporttinitv tor flower borders ot varied growth and 
rich color. There is a quality of some minds 
which mav be termed historical imagination. It is 
the power of shaping from a tew simple words or 
details of the farawav past, an ample picture, full 
of light and life, ot which these meagre details are 
but a framework. Having this list o\ the names 
of these sturdv old annuals and perennials, what do 
vou perceive besides the printed words ? I see that 
the old mid-centurv garden where these seeds found 
a home was a cheerful place trom earliest sprino; to 
autumn ; that it had manv bulbs, and thereafter a 
constant succession ot warm blooms till the Cox- 
combs, ISTarii^olds, Colchicums and Chrvsanthe- 
mums yielded to New England's trosts. 1 know 



Colonial Garden-making 



35 



that the garden had beehives and that the bees 
were loved; for when they sallied out of their straw 
bee-skepes, these happy bees found their favorite 
blossoms planted to welcome them : Cerinthe, drop- 
ping with honey; Cacalia, a sister flower; Lupine, 
Larkspur, Sweet Marjoram, and Thyme — 1 can 




Old Garden at Duck Cove Farm in Narragansett. 

taste the Thyme-scented classic honey from that 
garden ! There was variety of foliage as well as 
bloom, the dovelike Lavender, the glaucous Horned 
Poppy, the glistening Iceplants, the dusty Rose 
Campion, 

Stately plants grew from the little seed-packets ; 
Hollyhocks, Valerian, Canterbury Bells, Tree Prim- 
roses looked down on the low-growing herbs of the 



^6 Old Time Gardens 

border ; and there were vines of Convolvulus and 
Honeysuckle. It was a garden overhung by clouds 
of perfume from Thyme, Lavender, Sweet Peas, 
Pleasant-eyed Pink, and Stock. The garden's mis- 
tress looked well after her household ; ample store 
of savory pot herbs grow among the finer blossoms. 

It was a garden for children to play in. I can see 
them ; little boys with their hair tied in queues, in 
knee breeches and flapped coats like their stately 
fathers, running races down the garden path, as did 
the Van Cortlandt children ; and demure little girls 
in caps and sacques and aprons, sitting in cubby 
houses under the Lilac bushes. I know what flowers 
they played with and how they played, for they were 
my great-grandmothers and grandfathers, and they 
played exactly what I did, and sang what I did when 
I was a child in a garden. And suddenly my picture 
expands, as a glow ot patriotic interest thrills me in 
the thought that in this garden were sheltered and 
amused the bovs of one hundred and forty years 
ago, who became the heroes of our American Revo- 
lution ; and the girls who were Daughters of Lib- 
erty, who spun anci wove and knit for their soldiers, 
and drank heroically their miserable Liberty tea. I 
fear the garden faded when bitter war scourged 
the land, when the women turned from their flower 
beds to the plough and the field, since their brothers 
and husbands were on the frontier. 

But when that winter of gloom to our country 
and darkness to the garden was ended, the flowers 
bloomed still more brightly, and to the cheerful seed- 
lings of the old garden is now given perpetual youth 



Colonial Garden-making 37 

and beauty ; they are fated never to grow faded or 
neglected or sad, but to live and blossom and smile 
forever in the sunshine of our hearts through the 
magic power of a few printed words in a time-worn 
old news-sheet. 



CHAPTER II 



FRONT DOORYARDS 



** There are few of us who cannot remember a front yard garden 
which seemed to us a very paradise in childhood. Whether the 
house was a tine one and the enclosure spacious, or whether it was a 
small house with only a narrow bit of ground in front, the yard was 
kept with care, and was different from the rest of the land altogether. 
. . . People do not know what they lose when they make way 
with the reserve, the separateness, the sanctity, of the front yard 
of their grandmothers. It is like writing down family secrets for any 
one to read ; it is like having everybody call you by your first name, 
or sitting in any pew in church." 

— Country Byivays, Sarah Orne Jewett, i88i. 




LD New England villages and 
small towns and well-kept New 
England fiirms had universally 
a simple and pleasing form of 
garden called the front yard or 
tront dooryard. A few still 
may be seen in conservative 
the New England states and in 
Pennsylvania. I saw flourishing 
ones this summer in Gloucester, Marblehead, and 
Ipswich. Even where the front yard was but a 
narrow strip of land before a tiny cottage, it was 
carefully fenced in, with a gate that was kept rigidly 
closed and latched. There seemed to be a law 

38 



communities in 
New York or 



Front Dooryards 



39 



which shaped and bounded the front yard ; the 
side fences extended from the corners of the house 
to the front fence on the edge of the road, and 
thus formed naturally the guarded parallelogram. 
Often the fence around the front yard was the 
only one on the farm ; everywhere else were boun- 
daries of great stone walls ; or if there were rail 




The Flowering Almond under the Window. 



fences, the front yard fence was the only painted 
one. I cannot doubt that the first gardens that 
our foremothers had, which were wholly of flower- 
ing plants, were front yards, little enclosures hard 
won from the forest. 

The word yard, not generally applied now to any 
enclosure of elegant cultivation, comes from the 
same root as the word garden. Garth is another 



40 Old Time Gardens 

derivative, and the word exists much disguised in 
orchard. In the sixteenth century yard was used 
in formal literature instead of garden ; and later 
Burns writes of " Eden's bonnie yard. Where yeuth- 
ful lovers first were pair'd." 

This front yard was an English fashion derived 
from the forecourt so strongly advised by Gervayse 
Markham (an interesting old English writer on flori- 
culture and husbandry), and found in front of many 
a yeoman's house, and many a more pretentious 
house as well in Markham's day. Forecourts were 
common in England until the middle of the eigh- 
teenth century, and may still be seen. The fore- 
court gave privacy to the house even when in the 
centre of a town. Its readoption is advised with 
handsome dwelHngs in England, where ground-space 
is limited, — and why not in America, too ? 

The front yard was sacred to the best beloved, or 
at any rate the most honored, garden flowers of the 
house mistress, and was preserved by its fences from 
inroads of cattle, which then wandered at their will 
and were not housed, or even enclosed at night. 
The flowers were often of scant variety, but were 
those deemed the gentlefolk of the flower world. 
There was a clump of Daffodils and of the Poet's 
Narcissus in early spring, and stately Crown Impe- 
rial; usually, too, a few scarlet and yellow single 
Tulips, and Grape Hyacinths. Later came Phlox 
in abundance — the only native American plant, — 
Canterbury Bells, and ample and glowing London 
Pride. Of course there were great plants of white 
and blue Day Lilies, with their beautiful and decora- 



Front Dooryards 



41 



tive leaves, and purple and yellow Flower de Luce. 
A few old-fashioned shrubs always were seen. By 
inflexible law there must be a Lilac, which might 
be the aristocratic Persian Lilac. A Syringa, a flow- 
ering Currant, or Strawberry bush made sweet the 
front yard in spring, and sent wafts of fragrance into 







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Peter's Wreath. 



the house-windows. Spindling, rusty Snowberry 
bushes were by the gate, and Snowballs also, or our 
native Viburnums. Old as they seem, the Spiraeas 
and Deutzias came to us in the nineteenth century 
from Japan ; as did the flowering Quinces and 
Cherries. The pink Flowering Almond dates back 
to the oldest front yards (see page 39), and Peter's 
Wreath certainly seems an old settler and is found 



4^ 



Old Time Gardens 



now in many front y^rds that remain. The lovely 
full-flowered shrub of Peter's Wreath, on page 41, 
which was photographed for this book, was all that 
remained of a once-loved tront yard. 

The glory of the front yard was the old-fashioned 
early red " Piny," cultivated since the days of Pliny. 
I hear people speaking ot it with contempt as a 
vulgar flower, ^ flaunting is the conventional 
derogatory adjective, — but I glory in its flaunting. 
The modern varieties, of every tint from white 
through flesh color, coral, pink, ruby color, salmon, 
and even yellow, to deep red, are as beautiful as 
Roses. Some are sweet-scented ; and they have no 
thorns, and their foliage is ever perfect, so I am sure 
the Rose is jealous. 

I am as fond of the Peony as arc the Chinese, 
among whom it is flower queen. It is by them re- 
garded as an aristocratic flower; and in old New Kng- 
land towns fine Peony plants in an old garden are a 
pretty good indication of the residence ot what Dr. 
Holmes called New England Brahmins. In Salem 
and Portsmouth are old " Pinys " that have a hun- 
dred blossoms at a time — a glorious sight. A 
Japanese name is " Flower-of-prosperity " ; another 
name, " Plant-of-twenty-days," because its glories 
last during that period of time. 

Rhododendrons are to the modern garden what 
the Peony was in the old-fashioned flower border ; 
and I am glad the modern flower cannot drive the 
old one out. They are equally varied in coloring, 
but the Peony is a much hardier plant, and I like 
it far better. It has no blights, no bugs, no dis- 




00 



Front Dooryards 43 

eases, no running out, no funguses ; it doesn't have 
to be covered in winter, and it will bloom in the 
shade. No old-time or modern garden is to me 
fully furnished without Peonies ; see how fair they 
are in this Salem garden. I would grow them in 
some corner of the garden for their splendid healthy 
foliage if they hadn't a blossom. The Faonia 
tenuifolia in particular has exquisite feathery foliage. 
The great Tree Peony, which came from China, 
grows eight feet or more in height, and is a triumph 
of the flower world ; but it was not known to the 
oldest front yards. Some of the Tree Peonies have 
finely displayed leafage of a curious and very grati- 
fying tint of green. Miss Jekyll, with her usual 
felicity, compares its blue cast with pinkish shad- 
ing to the vari-colored metal alloys of the Japanese 
bronze workers — a striking comparison. The 
single Peonies of recent years are of great beauty, 
and will soon be esteemed here as in China. 

Not the least of the Peony's charms is its 
exceeding trimness and cleanliness. The plants 
always look like a well-dressed, well-shod, well- 
gloved girl of birth, breeding, and of equal good 
taste and good health ; a girl who can swim, and 
skate, and ride, and play golf. Every inch has a 
well-set, neat, cared-for look which the shape and 
growth of the plant keeps from seeming artificial or 
finicky. See the white Peony on page 44 ; is it not 
a seemly, comely thing, as well as a beautiful one ? 

No flower can be set in our garden of more dis- 
tinct antiquity than the Peony; the Greeks be- 
lieved it to be of divine origin. A green arbor 



44 



Old Time Gardens 



of the fourteenth century in England is described 
as set around with Gillyflower, Tansy, Groniwell, 
and " Pyonys powdered ay betwene " — just as I 
like to see Peonies set to this day, " powdered " 




White Peonies. 



everywhere between all the other flowers of the 
border. 

I am pleased to note of the common flowers of 
the New England front yard, that they are no new 
things; they are nearly all Elizabethan of date — 
many are older still. Lord Bacon in his essay on 
gardens names many of them, Crocus, Tulip, Hya- 



Front Dooryards 45 

cinth, Daffodil, Flower de Luce, double Peony, 
Lilac, Lily of the Valley. 

A favorite flower was the yellow garden Lily, the 
Lemon Lily, Hemerocallis^ when it could be kept 
from spreading. Often its unbounded luxuriance 
exiled it from the front yard to the kitchen door- 
yard, as befell the clump shown facing page 48. 
Its pretty old-fashioned name was Liricon-fancy, 
given, I am told, in England to the Lily of the 
Valley, I know no more satisfying sight than a 
good bank of these Lemon Lilies in full flower. 
Below Flatbush there used to be a driveway lead- 
ing to an old Dutch house, set at regular inter- 
vals with great clumps of Lemon Lilies, and their 
full bloom made them glorious. Their power of 
satisfactory adaptation in our modern formal gar- 
den is happily shown facing page 76, in the lovely 
garden of Charles E. Mather, Esq., in Haverford, 
Pennsylvania. 

The time of fullest inflorescence of the nineteenth 
century front yard was when Phlox and Tiger Lilies 
bloomed ; but the pinkish-orange colors of the lat- 
ter (the oddest reds of any flower tints) blended 
most vilely and rampantly with the crimson-purple 
of the Phlox ; and when London Pride joined 
with its glowing scarlet, the front yard fairly 
ached. Nevertheless, an adaptation of that front- 
yard bloom can be most efi^ective in a garden bor- 
der, when white Phlox only is planted, and the 
Tiger Lily or cultivated stalks of our wild nodding 
Lily rise above the white trusses of bloom. These 
wild Lilies grow very luxuriantly in the garden. 



4-6 Old Time Gardens 

often towering above our heads and forming great 
candelabra bearing two score or more blooms. It is 
no easy task to secure their deep-rooted rhizomes in 
the meadow. I know a young man who won his 
sweetheart by the patience and assiduity with which 
he dug for her all one broiling morning to secure 
for her the coveted Lilv roots, and collapsed with 
mild sunstroke at the finish. Her gratitude and 
remorse were equal factors in his favor. 

The Tiger Lily is usually thought upon as a truly 
old-fashioned flower, a veritable antique; it is a 
favorite of artists to place as an accessory in their 
colonial gardens, and of authors for their flower- 
beds of Revolutionary days, but it was not known 
either in formal garden or front yard, until after 
" the days when we lived under the King." The 
bulbs were first brought to England from Eastern 
Asia in 1804 by Captain Kirkpatrick of the East 
India Companv's Service, and shared with the Japan 
Lily the honor of being the first Eastern Lilies in- 
troduced into European gardens. A few years ago 
an old gentleman, Mr. Isaac Pitman, who was then 
about eightv-five years of age, told me that he re- 
called distinctlv when Tiger Lilies first appeared in 
our gardens, and where he first saw them growing 
in Boston. So instead of being an old-time flower, 
or even an old-comer from the Orient, it is one of 
the novelties of this century. How readily has it 
made itself at home, and even wandered wild down 
our roadsides ! 

The two simple colors of Phlox of the old-time 
front yard, white and crimson-purple, are now aug- 



Front Dooryards 47 

mented by tints of salmon, vermilion, and rose. 
I recall with special pleasure the profuse garden 
decoration at East Hampton, Long Island, of a 
pure cherry-colored Phlox, generally a doubtful 
color to me, but there so associated with the white 
blooms of various other plants, and backed by a 
high hedge covered solidly with blossoming Honey- 
suckle, that it was wonderfully successful. 

To other members of the Phlox family, all 
natives of our own continent, the old front yard 
owed much; the Moss Pink sometimes crowded 
out both Grass and its companion the Periwinkle ; 
it is still found in our gardens, and bountifully also 
in our fields ; either in white or pink, it is one of 
the satisfactions of spring, and its cheerful little 
blossom is of wonderful use in many waste places. 
An old-fashioned bloom, the low-growing Phlox 
amcena^ with its queerly fuzzy leaves and bright 
crimson blossoms, was among the most distinctly 
old-fashioned flowers of the front yard. It was tol- 
erated rather than cultivated, as was its companion, 
the Arabis or Rock Cress — both crowding, monop- 
olizing creatures. I remember well how they spread 
over the beds and up the grass banks in my 
mother's garden, how sternly they were uprooted, 
in spite of the pretty name of the Arabis — "Snow 
in Summer." 

Sometimes the front yard path had edgings of 
sweet single or lightly double white or tinted Pinks, 
which were not deemed as choice as Box edgings. 
Frequently large Box plants clipped into simple 
and natural shapes stood at the side of the door- 



48 Old Time Gardens 

step, usually in the home of the well-to-do. A 
great shell might be on either side of the door- 
sill, if there chanced to be seafaring men-folk who 
lived or visited under the roof-tree. Annuals were 
few in number; sturdy old. perennial plants of many 
years' growth were the most honored dwellers in 
the front yard, true representatives of old families. 
The Roses were few and poor, for there was usually 
some great tree just without the gate, an Elm or 
Larch, whose shadow fell far too near and heavily 
for the health of Roses. Sometimes there was a 
prickly semidouble yellow Rose, called by us a 
Scotch Rose, a Sweet Brier, or a rusty-flowered white 
Rose, similar, though inferior, to the Madame Plan- 
tier. A new fashion of trellises appeared in the 
front yard about sixty years ago, and crimson Bour- 
sault Roses climbed up them as if by magic. 

One marked characteristic of the front yard was 
its lack of weeds ; few sprung up, none came to 
seed-time ; the enclosure was small, and it was a 
mark of good breeding to care for it well. Some- 
times, however, the earth was covered closely under 
shrubs and plants with the cheerful little Ladies' 
Delights, and they blossomed in the chinks of the 
bricked path and under the Box edges. Ambrosia, 
too, grew everywhere, but these were welcome — 
they were not weeds. 

Our old New England houses were suited in 
color and outline to their front yards as to our 
landscape. Lowell has given in verse a good de- 
scription of the kind of New England house that 
always had a front dooryard of flowers. 




Yellow Day Lilies. 



Front Dooryards 49 

•' On a grass-green swell 
That towards the south with sweet concessions fell. 
It dwelt retired, and half had grown to be 
As aboriginal as rock or tree. 
It nestled close to earth, and seemed to brood 
O'er homely thoughts in a half-conscious mood. 
If paint it e'er had known, it knew no more 
Than yellow lichens spattered thickly o'er 
That soft lead gray, less dark beneath the eaves. 
Which the slow brush of wind and weather leaves. 
The ample roof sloped backward to the ground 
And vassal lean-tos gathered thickly round. 
Patched on, as sire or son had felt the need. 
But the great chimney was the central thought. 



It rose broad-shouldered, kindly, debonair. 
Its warm breath whitening in the autumn air." 

Sarah Orne Jewett, in the plaint of A Mournful 
Villager^ has drawn a beautiful and sympathetic 
picture of these front yards, and she deplores their 
passing. I mourn them as I do every fenced-in or 
hedged-in garden enclosure. The sanctity and re- 
serve of these front yards of our grandmothers was 
somewhat emblematic of woman's life of that day : 
it was restricted, and narrowed to a small outlook 
and monotonous likeness to her neighbor's; but it 
was a life easily satisfied with small pleasures, and it 
was comely and sheltered and carefully kept, and 
pleasant to the home household ; and these were 
no mean things. 

The front yard was never a garden of pleasure ; 
children could not play in these precious little en- 
closed plots, and never could pick the flowers — 



50 Old Time Gardens 

front yard and flowers were both too much respected. 
Only formal visitors entered therein, visitors who 
opened the gate and closed it carefully behind them, 
and knocked slowly with the brass knocker, and were 
ushered in through the ceremonious front door and 
the little ill-contrived entry, to the stiff fore-room or 
parlor. The parson and his wife entered that portal, 
and sometimes a solemn would-be sweetheart, or the 
guests at a tea party. It can be seen that every one 
vyho had enough social dignitv to have a front door 
and a parlor, and visitors thereto, also desired a 
front yard with flowers as the external token ot that 
honored standing. It was like owning a pew in 
church ; vou could be a Christian without having a 
pew, but not a respected one. Sometimes when 
there was a " vandue " in the house, reckless folk 
opened the front gate, and even tied it back. I 
attended one where the auctioneer boldlv set the 
articles out throuijh the windows under the Lilac 
bushes and even on the precious front yard plants. 
A vendue and a funeral were the only gatherings 
in countrv communities when the entire neighbor- 
hood came freely to an old homestead, when all 
were at liberty to enter the front dooryard. At the 
sad time when a funeral took place in the house, 
the front gate was fastened widely open, and solemn 
men-neighbors, in Sunday garments, stood rather 
uncomfortably and awkwardly around the front 
yard as the women passed into the house of 
mourning and were seated within. When the sad 
services began, the men too entered and stood 
stiflly by the door. Then through the front door. 



Front Dooryards 51 

down the mossy path of the front yard, and through 
the open front gate was borne the master, the mis- 
tress, and then their children, and children's chil- 
dren. All are gone from our sight, many from our 
memory, and often too from our ken, while the 
Lilacs and Peonies and Flowers de Luce still blos- 
som and flourish with perennial youth, and still 
claim us as friends. 

At the side of the house or by the kitchen door 
would be seen many thrifty blooms: poles of Scar- 
let Runners, beds of Portulacas and Petunias, rows 
of Pinks, bunches of Marigolds, level expanses of 
Sweet Williams, banks of cheerful Nasturtiums, tan- 
gles of Morning-glories and long rows of stately 
Hollyhocks, which were much admired, but were 
seldom seen in the front yard, which was too shaded 
for them. Weeds grew here at the kitchen door in 
a rank profusion which was hard to conquer ; but 
here the winter's Fuchsias or Geraniums stood in 
flower pots in the sunlight, and the tubs of Olean- 
ders and Agapanthus Lilies. 

The flowers of the front yard seemed to bear 
a more formal, a "company" aspect; convention- 
ality rigidly bound them. Bachelor's Buttons might 
grow there by accident, but Marigolds never were 
tolerated, — they were pot herbs. Sunflowers were 
not even permitted in the flower beds at the side 
of the house unless these stretched down to the 
vegetable beds. Outside the front yard would be 
a rioting and cheerful growth of pink Bouncing Bet, 
or of purple Honesty, and tall straggling plants of 
a certain small flowered, ragged Campanula, and a 



52 



Old Time Gardens 



white Mallow with flannellv leaves which, doubtless, 
aspired to inhabit the sacred bounds ot the front 
yard (and probably dwelt there originally), and 
often were gladly permitted to grow in side gar- 
dens or kitchen dooryards, but which were re- 
garded as interloping weeds by the guardians ot the 




Orange Day Lilies. 



front yard, and sternly exiled. Sometimes a bed 
of these orange-tawny Day Lilies which had once 
been warmly welcomed from the Orient, and now 
were not wanted anywhere by any one, kept com- 
pany with the Bouncing Bet, and stretched cheer- 
fully down the roadside. 

When the fences disappeared with the night 
rambles of the cows, the front yards gradually 



Front Dooryards ^2 

changed character ; the tender blooms vanished, 
but the tall shrubs and the Peonies and Flower de 
Luce sturdily grew and blossomed, save where that 
dreary destroyer of a garden crept in — the desire 
for a lawn. The result was then a meagre expanse 
of poorly kept grass, with no variety, color, or 
change, — neither lawn nor front yard. It is ever 
a pleasure to me when driving in a village street 
or a country road to find one of these front yards 
still enclosed, or even to note in front of many 
houses the traces of a past front yard still plainly 
visible in the flourishing old-fashioned plants of 
many years' growth. 



CHAPTER III 



VARIED GARDENS FAIR 




" And all without were walkes and alleys dight 
With divers trees enrang'd in even rankes ; 
And here and there were pleasant arbors pight 
And shadie seats, and sundry flowering hankes 
To sit and rest the walkers wearie shankes." 

— Faerie ^ccne, Edmund Spenser. 

ANY simple forms of gardens 
were common besides the en- 
closed front yard; and as wealth 
poured in on the colonies, the 
beautiful gardens so much thought 
of in England were copied here, 
especially by wealthy merchants, as is noted in the 
first chapter of this book, and by the provincial 
governors and their little courts ; the garden of 
Governor Hutchinson, in Milford, Massachusetts, 
is stately still and little changed. 

English gardens, at the time of the settlement of 
America, had passed beyond the time when, as old 
Gervayse Markham said, " Of all the best Orna- 
ments used in our English gardens. Knots and 
Mazes are the most ancient." A maze was a 
placing of low garden hedges of Privet, Box, or 
Hyssop, usually set in concentric circles which erx- 

54 



Varied Gardens Fair ^^ 

closed paths, that opened into each other by such 
artful contrivance that it was difficult to find one's 
way in and out through these bewildering paths. 
" When well formed, of a man's height, your friend 
may perhaps wander in gathering berries as he 
cannot recover himself without your help." 

The maze was not a thing of beauty, it was 
" nothing for sweetness and health," to use Lord 
Bacon's words ; it was only a whimsical notion of 
gardening amusement, pleasing to a generation who 
liked to have hidden fountains in their gardens to 
sprinkle suddenly the unwary. I doubt if any 
mazes were ever laid out in America, though I have 
heard vague references to one in Virginia. Knots 
had been the choice adornment of the Tudor 
garden. They were not wholly a thing of the past 
when we had here our first gardens, and they have 
had a distinct influence on garden laying-out till our 
own day. 

An Elizabethan poet wrote : — 

" My Garden sweet, enclosed with walles strong. 
Embanked with benches to sitt and take my rest ; 
The knots so enknotted it cannot be expressed 
The arbores and alyes so pleasant and so dulce." 

These garden knots were not flower beds edged 
with Box or Rosemarv, with narrow walks between 
the edgings, as were the parterres of our later 
formal gardens. They were square, ornamental 
beds, each of which had a design set in some 
close-growing, trim plant, clipped flatly across 
the top, and the design filled in with colored earth 



56 Old Time Gardens 

or sand ; and with no dividing paths. Elaborate 
models in complicated geometrical pattern were 
given in gardeners' books, for setting out these 
knots, which were first drawn on paper and sub- 
divided into squares ; then the square of earth was 
similarly divided, and set out by precise rules. 
William Lawson, the Izaak Walton of gardeners, 
gave, as a result of forty-eight years of experience, 
some very attractive directions for large " knottys " 
with different " thrids " of flowers, each of one 
color, which made the design appear as if " made 
of diverse colored ribands." One of his knots, 
from A New Orchard and Garden 161 8, being 
a garden fashion in vogue when my forbears came 
to America, I have chosen as a device for the dedi- 
cation of this book, thinking it, in Lawson's words, 
"so comely, and orderlv placed, and so inter- 
mingled, that one looking thereon cannot but \\on- 
der." His knots had significant names, such as 
" Cinkfoyle ; Flower de Luce ; 1 refoyle ; Frette ; 
Lozenge; Groseboowe ; Diamond; Ovall ; Maze." 

Gervayse Markham gives various knot patterns 
to be bordered with Box cut eighteen inches broad 
at the bottom and kept flat at the top — with the 
ever present thought for the fine English linen. 
He has a varied list ot circular, diamond-shaped, 
mixed, and "single impleated knots." 

These garden knots were mildly sneered at by 
Lord Bacon ; he said, " they be but toys, you see 
as good sights many times in tarts;" still I think 
they must have been quaint, and I should like to 
see a garden laid out to-day in these pretty Eliza- 



Varied Gardens Fair 



57 



bethan knots, set in the old patterns, and with the 
old flowers. Nor did Parkinson and other practical 
gardeners look with favor on " curiously knotted 




Box-edged Parterre at Hampton. 

gardens," though all gave designs to "satisfy the 
desires" of their readers. "Open knots" were pre- 
ferred ; these were made with borders of lead, tiles, 
boards, or even the shankbones of sheep, " which 
will become white and prettily grace out the gar- 



58 Old Time Gardens 

den," — a fashion I saw a few years ago around 
flower beds in Charlton, Massachusetts. " Round 
whitish pebble stones " for edgings were Parkinson's 
own invention, and proud he was of it, simple as it 
seems to us. These open knots were then filled 
in, but " thin and sparingly," with " English Flow- 
ers " ; or with " Out-Landish Flowers," which were 
flowers fetched from foreign parts. 

The parterre succeeded the knot, and has been 
used in gardens till the present day. Parterres were 
of different combinations, " well-contriv'd and inge- 
nious." The " parterre of cut-work " was a Box- 
bordered formal flower garden, of which the garden 
at Hampton, Maryland (pages 57, 60, and 95), is a 
striking and perfect example ; also the present gar- 
den at Mount Vernon (opposite page 12), wherein 
carefully designed flower beds, edged with Box, are 
planted with variety of flowers, and separated by 
paths. Sometimes, of old, fine white sand was care- 
fully strewn on the earth under the flowers. The 
" parterre a I'Anglaise " had an elaborate design of 
vari-shaped beds edged with Box, but enclosing grass 
instead of flowers. In the "parterre de broderie " 
the Box-edged beds were filled with vari-colored 
earths and sands. Black earth could be made of 
iron filings; red earth of pounded tiles. This last- 
named parterre differed from a knot solely in having 
the paths among the beds. The Retird Gardner 
gives patterns for ten parterres. 

The main walks which formed the basis of the 
garden design had in ancient days a singular name 
— forthrights ; these were ever to be " spacious 



Varied Gardens Fair 59 

and fair," and neatly spread with colored sands or 
gravel. Parkinson says, " The fairer and larger 
your allies and walks be the more grace your 
garden should have, the lesse harm the herbes and 
flowers shall receive, and the better shall your 
weeders cleanse both the bed and the allies." " Cov- 
ert-walks," or " shade-alleys," had trees meeting in 
an arch over them. 

A curious term, found in references to old Amer- 
ican flower beds and garden designs, as well as 
English ones, is the "goose-foot." A "goose- 
foot " consisted of three flower beds or three 
avenues radiating rather closely together from a 
small semicircle ; and in some places and under 
some conditions it is still a charming and striking 
design, as you stand at the heel of the design and 
glance down the three avenues. 

In all these flower beds Box was the favorite 
edging, but many other trim edgings have been 
used in parterres and borders by those who love not 
Box. Bricks were used, and boards; an edging of 
boards was not as pretty as one of flowers, but it 
kept the beds trimly in place; a garden thus edged 
is shown on page 6^ which realizes this descrip- 
tion of the pleasure-garden in the Scots Gard'ner : 
"The Bordures box'd and planted with variety of fine 
Flowers orderly Intermixt, Weeded, Mow'd, Rolled 
and Kept all Clean and Handsome." Germander 
and Rosemary were old favorites for edging. I 
have seen snowy edgings of Candy-tuft and Sweet 
Alyssum, setting off^ well the vari-colored blooms 
of the border. One of Sweet Alyssum is shown 



Go 



Old 1 inic Gardens 



on page 256. Agcraruiii is a satistactory edging. 
Tliyme is of ancient use, Init rather unnianageahle ; 
one garden owner lias set his edgings ot Money- 
wort, otherwise Creeping-jennv. 1 should he loth 
to use Moneywort as an edging ; I would not care 




Paitcne and Clipped L<ox at MaMipion. 



for its vellow flowers in that place, though I find 
them very kindly and cheertul on dull hanks or in 
damp spots, under the drip of trees and eaves, or 
better still, growing gladly in the flower pot ot the 
poor. I tear if Moneywort thrived enough to 
make a close, suitable edging, that it would thrive 
too well, and would swamp the borders with its un- 



Varied Gardens Fair 6i 

derground runners. The name Moneywort is akin 
to its older title Herb-twopence, or Twopenny 
Grass. Turner (1548) says the latter name was 
given from the leaves all "standying together of ech 
syde of the stalke lyke pence." The striped leaves 
of one variety of Day Lily make pretty edgings. 
Those from a Salem garden are here shown. 

We often see in neglected gardens in New Eng- 
land, or by the roadside where no gardens now exist, 
a dense gray-green growth of Lavender Cotton, 
" the female plant of Southernwood," which was 
brought here by the colonists and here will ever 
remain. It was used as an edging, and is very 
pretty when it can be controlled. 1 know two or 
three old gardens where it is thus employed. 

Sometimes in driving along a country road you 
are startledby a concentration of foliage and bloom, 
a glimpse of a tiny farm-house, over which are 
clustered and heaped, and round which are gath- 
ered, close enough to be within touch from door or 
window, flowers in a crowded profusion ample to fill 
a large flower bed. Such is the mass of June bloom 
at Wilbur Farm in old Narragansett (page 290) — a 
home of flowers and bees. Often by the side of 
the farm-house is a little garden or flower bed con- 
taining some splendid examples of old-time flowers. 
The splendid " running ribbons " of Snow Pinks, 
on page 292, are in another Narragansett garden 
that is a bower of blossoms. Thrift has been a 
common edging since the days of the old herbalist 
Gerarde. 



62 Old Time Gardens 

*' We have a bright httle garden, down on a sunny slope. 

Bordered with sea-pinks and sweet with the songs and blossoms 
of hope." 

The garden of Secretary William H. Seward (in 
Auburn, New York), so beloved by him in his life- 
time, is shown on page 146 and facing page 134. In 
this garden some beds are edged with Periwinkle, 
others with Polyanthus, and some with Ivy which 
Mr. Seward brought from Abbotsford in 1836. This 
garden was laid out in its present form in 18 16, and 
the sun-dial was then set in its place. The garden 
has been enlarged, but not changed, the old "George 
II. Roses" and York and Lancaster Roses still 
grow and blossom, and the lovely arches of single 
Michigan Roses still flourish. In it are many 
flowers and fruits unusual in America, among them 
a bed of Alpine strawberries. 

King James I. of Scotland thus wrote of the 
garden which he saw from his prison window in 
Windsor Castle : — 

"A Garden fair, and in the Corners set 
An Herbere greene, with Wandis long and small 
Railit about." 

These wandis were railings which were much 
used before Box edgings became universal. Some- 
times they were painted the family colors, as at 
Hampton Court they were green and white, the 
Tudor colors. These " wandis " still are occasion- 
ally seen. In the Berkshire Hills I drove past an 
old garden thus trimly enclosed in little beds. The 
rails were painted a dull light brown, almost the color 



Varied Gardens Fair 



63 



of some tree trunks ; and Larkspur, Foxglove, and 
other tall flowers crowded up to them and hung 
their heads over the top rails as children hang over 
a fence or a gate. I thought it a neat, trim fashion, 
not one I would care for in my own garden, yet 
not to be despised in the garden of another. 

A garden enclosed ! so full of suggestion are these 
simple words to me, so constant is my thought that 




Garden of Mrs. Mabel Osgood Wright, Waldstein, Fairfield. Conn. 



an ideal flower garden must be an enclosed garden, 
that I look with regret upon all beautiful flower beds 
that are not enclosed, not shut in a frame of green 
hedges, or high walls, or vine-covered fences and 
dividing trees. It may be selfish to hide so much 
beauty from general view ; but until our dwelling- 
houses are made with uncurtained glass walls, that 
all the world may see everything, let those who 



64 Old Time Gardens 

have ample grounds enclose at least a portion for 
the sight of friends only. 

In the heart of Worcester there is a fine old man- 
sion with ample lawns, great trees, and flowering 
shrubs that all may see over the garden fence as 
thev pass by. Flowers bloom lavishly at one side of 
the house; and the thoughtless stroller never knows 
that behind the house, stretching down between the 
rear gardens and walls of neighboring homes, is a 
long enclosure of loveliness — sequestered, quiet, 
full of refreshment to the spirits. We think of the 
" Old Garden " of Margaret Deland : — 

" The Garden glows 
And 'gainst its walls the citv's heart still beats. 
And out from it each summer wind that blows 
Carries some sweetness to the tired streets ! " 

There is a shaded walk in this garden which is a 
thing ot solace and content to all who tread its 
pathway ; a bit is shown opposite this page, over- 
hung with shrubs ot Lilac, Syringa, Strawberry Bush, 
Flowering Currant, all the old treelike things, so 
hiir-flowercd and sweet-scented in spring, so heavv- 
leaved and cool-shadowing in midsummer: what 
pleasure would there be in this shaded walk if this 
garden were separated from the street only by stone 
curbing or a low rail .? And there is an old sun-dial 
too in this enclosed garden ! I fear the street imps 
of a crowded city would quickly destroy the old 
monitor were it in an open garden ; and they would 
make sad havoc, too, of the Roses and Larkspurs 
(page 65) so tenderly reared by the two sisters who 




Shaded Walk in Garden of Miss Harriet P. F. Burnside, Worcester, 
Massachusetts. 



Varied Gardens Fair 



65 



together loved and cared for this "garden enclosed." 
Great trees are at the edges of this garden, and the 
line of tall shrubs is carried out by the lavish vines 
and Roses on fences and walls. Within all this 




Roses and Larkspur in the Garden of Miss Harriet P. F. Burnside, 
Worcester, Massachusetts. 



border of greenery glow the clustered gems of rare 
and beautiful flowers, till the whole garden seems 
like some rich jewel set purposely to be worn in 
honor over the city's heart — a clustered jewel, not 
one to be displayed carelessly and heedlessly. 



66 Old Time Gardens 

Salem houses and gardens are like Salem people. 
Salem houses present to you a serene and dignified 
front, gracious yet reserved, not thrusting forward 
their choicest treasures to the eyes of passing stran- 
gers ; but behind the walls of the houses, enclosed 
from public view, lie cherished gardens, full of the 
beautv of life. Such, in their kind, are Salem folk. 

1 know no more speaking, though silent, criticism 
than those old Salem gardens afford upon the mod- 
ern fashion in American towns of pulling down walls 
and fences, removing the boundaries ot lawns, and 
living in full view of every passer-by, in a public 
grassv park. It is pleasant, I suppose, for the passer- 
by ; but homes are not made tor passers-by. Old 
Salem gardens lie behind the house, out of sight — 
you have to hunt for them. They are terraced down 
if thev stretch to the water-side ; they are enclosed 
with hedges, and set behind high vine-covered fences, 
and low out-buildings; and planted around with great 
trees : thus they give to each family that secluded 
centring of family lite which is the very essence and 
being of a home. I sat through a June afternoon 
in a Salem garden whose gate is within a stone's 
throw of a great theatre, but a tew hundred teet from 
lines of electric cars and a busy street ot trade, scarce 
farther from lines of active steam cars, and with a 
great power house for a close neighbor. Yet we 
were as secluded, as embowered in vines and trees, 
with beehives and rabbit hutches and chicken coops 
for happv children at the garden's end, as truly in 
beautiful privacy, as if in the midst of a hundred 
acres. Could the sense of sound be as sheltered 



Varied Gardens Fair 67 

by the enclosing walls as the sense of sight, such a 
garden were a city paradise. 

There is scant regularity in shape in Salem gar- 
dens ; there is no search for exact dimensions. 
Little narrow strips of flower beds run down from 
the main garden in any direction or at any angle 
where the fortunate owner can buy a few feet of 
land. Salem gardens do not change with the 
whims of fancy, either in the shape or the plant- 
ing. A few new flowers find place there, such as 
the Anemone Japonica and the Japanese shrubs ; 
for they are akin in flower sentiment, and consort 
well with the old inhabitants. There are many 
choice flowers and fruits in these gardens. In the 
garden of the Manning homestead (opposite page 
112) grows a flourishing Fig tree, and other rare 
fruits ; for fifty years ago this garden was known as 
the Pomological Garden. It is fitting it should be 
the home of two Robert Mannings — both well- 
known names in the history of horticulture in Massa- 
chusetts, 

The homely back yard of an old house will often 
possess a trim and blooming flower border cutting 
off the close approach of the vegetable beds (see 
opposite page 66). These back yards, with the 
covered Grape arbors, the old pumps, and bricked 
paths, are cheerful, wholesome places, generally of 
spotless cleanliness and weedless flower beds. I 
know one such back yard where the pump was the 
first one set in the town, and children were taken 
there from a distance to see the wondrous sight. 
Why are all the old appliances for raising water so 



68 



Old Time Gardens 



pleasing ? A well-sweep is of course picturesque, 
with its long swinging pole, and you seem to feel 
the refreshment and purity of the water when you 
see it brought up from such a distance ; and an old 




Covered Well at Home of Bishop Berkeley, Whitehall, Rhode Island. 

roofed well with bucket, such as this one still in use 
at Bishop Berkeley's Rhode Island home is ever a 
homelike and companionable object. But a pump 
is really an awkward-looking piece of mechanism, 
and hasn't a vestige of beauty in its lines; yet it has 
something satisfying about it ; it may be its do- 



Varied Gardens Fair 69 

mesticity, its homeliness, its simplicity. We have 
gained infinitely in comfort in our perfect water 
systems and lavish water of to-day, but we have 
lost the gratification of the senses which came from 
the sight and sound of freshly drawn or running 
water. Much of the delight in a fountain comes, 
not only from the beauty of its setting and the 
graceful shape of its jets, but simply from the sight 
of the water. 

Sometimes a graceful and picturesque growth of 
vines will beautify gate posts, a fence, or a kitchen 
doorway in a wonderfully artistic and pleasing fash- 
ion. On page 70 is shown the sheltered doorway 
of the kitchen of a fine old stone farm-house called, 
from its hedges of Osage Orange, "The Hedges." It 
stands in the village of New Hope, County Bucks, 
Pennsylvania. In lyiSthe tract of which this farm 
of over two hundred acres is but a portion was 
deeded by the Penns to their kinsman, the direct 
ancestor of the present owner, John Schofield Wil- 
liams, Esq. This is but one of the scores of exam- 
ples I know where the same estate has been owned 
in one family for nearly two centuries, sometimes 
even for two hundred and fifty years ; and in sev- 
eral cases where the deed from the Indian sachem 
to the first colonist is the only deed there has ever 
been, the estate having never changed ownership 
save by direct bequest. I have three such cases 
among my own kinsfolk. 

Another form of garden and mode of planting 
which was in vogue in the " early thirties " is shown 
facing page 92. This pillared house and the stiff 



yo Old Time Gardens 

garden are excellent tvpes ; thev are at Napanock, 
County Ulster, New York. Such a house and 
grounds indicated the possession of considerable 
wealth when thev were built and laid out, for both 
were costly. 1 he semicircular driveway swept up 




Kitchen Doorway and Porch at the Hedges. 

to the front door, dividing off Box-edged parterres 
like those of the day of Queen Anne. These par- 
terres were sparselv filled, the sunnier beds being 
set with Spring bulbs ; and there were always the 
yellow Day Lilies somewhere in the flower beds, and 
the white and blue Day Lilies, the common Funkias. 
Formal urns were usually found in the parterres and 



Varied Gardens Fair * 71 

sometimes a great cone or ball of clipped Box. These 
gardens had some universal details, they always had 
great Snowball bushes, and Syringas, and usually 
white Roses, chiefly Madame Plantiers ; the piazza 
trellises had old climbing Roses, the Oueen of the 
Prairie or Boursault Roses. These gardens are 
often densely overshadowed with great evergreen 
trees grown from the crowded planting of seventy 
years ago ; none are cut down, and if one dies its 
trunk still stands^ entwined with Woodbine. I don't 
know that we would lay out and plant just such a 
garden to-day, any more than we would build exactly 
such a house; but I love to see both, types of the 
refinement of their day, and I deplore any changes. 
An old Southern house of allied form is shown on 
page 72, and its garden facing page 70, — Green- 
wood, in Thomasville, Georgia ; but of course this 
garden has far more lavish and rich bloom. The 
decoration of this house is most interesting — a 
conventionalized Magnolia, and the garden is 
surrounded with splendid Magnolias and Crape 
Myrtles. The border edgings in this garden are 
lines of bricks set overlapping in a curious manner. 
They serve to keep the beds firmly in place, and the 
bricks are covered over with an inner edging of 
thrifty Violets. Curious tubs and boxes for plants 
are made of bricks set solidly in mortar. The gar- 
den is glorious with Roses, which seem to consort 
so well with Magnolias and Violets. 

I love a Dutch garden, " circummured " with 
brick. By a Dutch garden, I mean a small garden, 
oblong or square, sunk about three or four feet in 



72 



Old Time Gardens 



a lawn — so that when surrounded by brick walls 
thev seem about two feet high when viewed outside, 
but are five feet or more high from within the gar- 
den. There are brick or stone steps in the middle 
of each of the four walls by which to descend to the 
garden, which mav be all planted with Howers, but 
preferably should have set borders of flowers with 




^.li^iiwood, I hoin.isville, Georgia. 

a grass-plot in the centre. On either side of the 
steps should be brick posts surmounted by Dutch 
pots with plants, or by balls of stone. Planted with 
bulbs, these Q;ardens in their flowerinn; time are, as 
old Parkinson said, a " perfect fielde of delite." 
Wc have very prettv Dutch gardens, so called, in 
America, but their chief claim to being Dutch is 
that they are set with bulbs, and have Delft or other 
earthen pots or boxes for formal plants or shrubs. 



Varied Gardens Fair 73 

Sunken gardens should be laid out under the su- 
pervision of an intelligent landscape architect ; and 
even then should have a reason for being sunken 
other than a whim or increase in costliness. I vis- 
ited last summer a beautiful estate which had a deep 
sunken Dutch garden with a very low wall. It lay 
at the right side of the house at a little distance ; 
and beyond it, in full view of the peristyle, extended 
the only squalid objects in the horizon. A garden 
on the level, well planted, with distant edging of 
shrubbery, would have hidden every ugly blemish 
and been a thing of beauty. As it is now, there 
can be seen from the house nothing of the Dutch 
garden but a foot or two of the tops of several 
clipped trees, looking like very poor, stunted shrubs. 
I must add that this garden, with its low wall, has 
been a perfect man-trap. It has been evident that 
often, on dark nights, workmen who have sought a 
" short cut " across the grounds have fallen over 
the shallow wall, to the gardener's sorrow, and the 
bulbs' destruction. Once, at dawn, the unhappy 
gardener found an ancient horse peacefully feed- 
ing among the Hyacinths and Tulips. He said he 
didn't like the grass in his new pasture nor the sud- 
den approach to it ; that he was too old for such 
new-fangled ways. I know another estate near 
Philadelphia, where the sinking of a garden revealed 
an exquisite view of distant hills ; such a garden 
has reason for its form. 

We have had few water-gardens in America till 
recent years ; and there are some drawbacks to 
their presence near our homes, as I was vividly 



74 01<i Time Gardens 

aware when I visited one in a friend's garden early 
in May this year. Water-hyacinths were even 
then in bloom, and two or three exquisite Lilies ; 
and the Lotus leaves rose up charmingly from the 
surface of the tank. Less charmingly rose up also 
a cloud of vicious mosquitoes, who greeted the new- 
comer with a warm chorus of welcome. As our 
newspapers at that time were filled with plans for 
the application of kerosene to every inch of water- 
surface, such as I saw in these Lily tanks, accom- 
panied by magnified drawings of dreadful malaria- 
bearing insects, I fled from them, preferring to resign 
both Nymphaa and Anopheles. 

After* the introduction to English folk of that 
wonder of the world, the Victoria Regia, it was 
cultivated by enthusiastic flower lovers in Amer- 
ica, and was for a time the height of the fioral 
fashion. Never has the glorious Victoria Regia 
and scarce any other flower been described as by 
Colonel Higginson, a wonderful, a triumphant word 
picture. I was a very little child when I saw that 
same lovely Lily in leaf and flower that he called 
his neighbor ; but I have never forgotten it, nor 
how afraid I was of it ; for some one wished to 
lift me upon the great leaf to see whether it would 
hold me above the water. We had heard that the 
native children in South America floated on the 
leaves. I objected to this experiment with vehe- 
mence ; but my mother noted that I was no more 
frightened than was the faithful gardener at the 
thought of the possible strain on his precious plant 
of the weight of a sturdy child of six or seven years. 




o 



o 



Varied Gardens Fair 



75 




Water Garden at Sylvester Manor, Shelter Island, New York. 



I have seen the Victoria Regia leaves of late years, 
but 1 seldom hear of its blossoming ; but alas ! we 
take less heed of the blooming of unusual plants 
than we used to thirty or forty years ago- Then 
people thronged a greenhouse to see a new Rose or 
Camellia Japonica ; even a Night-blooming Cereus 
attracted scores of visitors to any house where it 
blossomed. And a fine Cactus of one of our neigh- 
bors always held a crowded reception when in rich 
bloom. It was a part of the " Flower Exchange," 
an interest all had for the beautiful flowers of others, 
a part of the old neighborly life. 

Within the past five or six years there have been 
laid out in America, at the country seats of men cf 
wealth and culture, a great number of formal gar- 
dens, — Italian gardens, some of them are worthily 
named, as they have been shaped and planted in 
conformity with the best laws and rules of Italian 



76 



Old Time Gardens 



garden-making — that special art. On this page 
is shown the finely proportioned terrace wall, and 
opposite tbe upper terrace and formal garden of 
Drumthwacket, Princeton, New Jersey, the country 
seat of M. Taylor Pyne, Esq. This garden affords a 
good example of the accord which should ever exist 




Terrace Wall at Drumthwacket, Princeton, New Jersey. 



between the garden and its surroundings. The name, 
Drumthwacket — a wooded hill — is a most felici- 
tous one ; the place is part of the original grant to 
William Penn, and has remained in the possession 
of one family until late in the nineteenth century. 
From this beautifully wooded hill the terrace-garden 
overlooks the farm buildings, the linked ponds, the 
fertile fields and meadows ; a serene pastoral view, 
typical of the peaceful landscape of that vicinity — 



Varied Gardens Fair 



77 



yet it was once the scene of fiercest battle. For the 
Drumthwacket farm is the battle-ground of that im- 
portant encounter of 1777 between the British and 
the Continental troops, known as the Battle of 
Princeton, the turning point of the Revolution, in 
which Washington was victorious. To this day, 




Garden at Drumthwacket. Princeton, New Jersey. 

cannon ball and grape shot are dug up in the Drum- 
thwacket fields. The Lodge built in 1696 was, at 
Washington's request, the shelter for the wounded 
British officers ; and the Washington Spring in front 
of the Lodge furnished water to Washington. The 
group of trees on the left of the upper pond marks 
the sheltered and honored graves of the British 
soldiers, where have slept for one hundred and 



7 8 Old Time Gardens 

twenty-four years those killed at this memorable 
encounter. If anything could cement still more 
closely the affections of the English and American 
peoples, it would be the sight of the tenderly shel- 
tered graves of British soldiers in America, such as 
these at Drumthwacket and other historic fields 
on our Eastern coast. At Concord how faithfully 
stand the sentinel pines over the British dead of the 
Battle of Concord, who thus repose, shut out from 
the tread of heedless feet yet ever present tor the 
care and thought of Concord people. 

We have older Italian gardens. Some of them are 
of great loveliness, among them the unique and 
dignified garden of Hollis H. Hunnewell, Esq., 
but many of the newer ones, even in their few sum- 
mers, have become of surprising grace and beauty, 
and their exquisite promise causes a glow of delight 
to every garden lover. I have often tried to analyze 
and account for the great charm of a formal garden, to 
one who loves so well the unrestrained and lavished 
blossoming of a flower border crowded with nature- 
arranged and disarranged blooms. A chance sen- 
tence in the letter of a flower-loving friend, one 
whose refined taste is an inherent portion of her 
nature, runs thus : — 

"I have the same love, the same sense oi perfect satis- 
faction, in the old formal garden that I have in the sonnet 
in poetry, in the Greek drama as contrasted with the mod- 
ern drama ; something within me is ever drawn toward 
that which is restrained and classic." 



Varied Gardens Fair 79 

In these few words, then, is defined the charm of 
the formal garden — a well-ordered, a classic re- 
straint. 

Some of the new formal gardens seem imperfect 
in design and inadequate in execution; worse still, they 
are unsuited to their surroundings ; but gracious 
nature will give even to these many charms of color, 
fragrance, and shape through lavish plant growth. 
I have had given to me sets of beautiful photo- 
graphs of these new Italian gardens, which I long 
to include with my pictures of older flower beds ; but 
I cannot do so in full in a book on Old-time Gar- 
dens, though they are copied from far older gardens 
than our American ones. I give throughout my 
book occasional glimpses of detail in modern formal 
gardens ; and two examples may be fitly illustrated 
and described in comparative fulness in this book, 
because they are not only unusual in their beauty 
and promise, but because they have in plan and exe- 
cution some bearing on my special presentation of 
gardens. These two are the gardens of Avonwood 
Court in Haverford, Pennsylvania, the country-seat 
of Charles E. Mather, Esq., of Philadelphia; and of 
Yaddo, in Saratoga, New York, the country-seat of 
Spencer Trask, Esq., of New York. 

The garden at Avonwood Court was designed and 
laid out in 1896 by Mr. Percy Ash. The flower 
planting was done by Mr. John Cope; and the 
garden is delightsome in proportions, contour, and 
aspect. Its claim to illustrative description in this 
book lies in the fact that it is planted chiefly with 
old-fashioned flowers, and its beds are laid out and 



8o Old Time Gardens 

bordered with thriving Box in a truly old-time 
mode. It affords a striking example of the beauty 
and satisfaction that can come from the use of Box 
as an edging, and old-time flowers as a filling of 
these beds. Among the two hundred different 
plants are great rows of yellow Day Lilies shown 
in the view facing page 76 ; regular plantings of 
Peonies ; borders of Flower de Luce ; banks of 
Lilies of the Valley ; rows of white Fraxinella and 
Lupine, beds of fringed Poppies, sentinels of Yucca 
— scores of old favorites have grown and thriven in 
the cheery manner they ever display when they are 
welcome and beloved. The sun-dial in this garden is 
shown facing page 82 ; it was designed by Mr. Percy 
Ash, and can be regarded as a model of simple out- 
lines, good proportions, careful placing, and sym- 
metrical setting. By placing I mean that it is in 
the right site in relation to the surrounding flower 
beds, and to the general outlines of the garden ; it is 
a dignified and significant garden centre. By set- 
ting I mean its being raised to proper prominence 
in the garden scheme, by being placed at the top of 
a platform formed of three circular steps of ample 
proportion and suitable height, that its pedestal is 
also of the right size and not so high but one can, 
when standing on the top step, read with ease the 
dial's response to our question, " What's the time 
o' the day ? " The hedges and walls of Honeysuckle, 
Roses, and other flowering vines that surround this 
garden have thriven wonderfully in the five years of 
the garden's life, and look like settings of many 
years. The simple but graceful wall seat gives 




Sundial at Avonwood Court, Haverford, Pennsylvania. 



Varied Gardens Fair 




Entrance Porch and Gate to the Rose Garden at Yaddo. 



some idea of the symmetrical and simple garden 
furnishings, as well as the profusion of climbing 
vines that form the garden's boundaries. 

This book bears on the title-page a redrawing 
of a charming old woodcut of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, a very good example of the art thought and 
art execution of that day, being the work of a skil- 
ful designer. It is from an old stilted treatise on 
orchards and gardens, and it depicts a cheerful little 
Love, with anxious face and painstaking "care, 
measuring and laying out the surface of the earth 
in a garden. On his either side are old clipped 
Yews ; and at his feet a spade and pots of garden 
flowers, among them the Fritillary so beloved of all 
flower lovers and herbalists of that day, a significant 



82 Old Time Gardens 

flower — a flower of meaning and mystery. This 
drawing may be taken as an old-time emblem, and 
a happy one, to symbolize the making of the beauti- 
ful modern Rose Garden at Yaddo ; where Love, 
with tenderest thought, has laid out the face of the 
earth in an exquisite garden of Roses, for the happi- 
ness and recreation of a dearly loved wife. The 
noble entrance gate and porch of this Rose Garden 
formed a happy surprise to the garden's mistress 
when unveiled at the dedication of the garden. They 
are depicted on page 8i, and there may be read the 
inscription which tells in a few well-chosen words 
the story of the inspiration of the garden ; but 
"between the lines," to those who know the Rose 
Garden and its makers, the inscription speaks with 
even deeper meaning the story of a home whose 
beauty is only equalled by the garden's spirit. To 
all such readers the Rose Garden becomes a fit- 
ting expression of the life of those who own it 
and care for it. This quality of expression, of 
significance, may be seen in many a smaller and 
simpler garden, even in a tiny cottage plot; you 
can perceive, through the care bestowed upon it, 
and its responsive blossoming, a something which 
shows the life of the garden owners ; you know 
that they are thoughtful, kindly, beauty-loving, 
home-loving. 

Behind the beautiful pergola of the Yaddo garden, 
set thickly with Crimson Rambler, a screenlike row 
of poplars divides the Rose Garden from a luxuriant 
Rock Garden, and an Old-fashioned Garden of large 
extent, extraordinary profusion, and many years' 



Varied Gardens Fair 



83 



growth. Perhaps the latter-named garden might 
seem more suited to my pages, since it is more 
advanced in growth and apparently more akin to 
my subject ; but I wish to write specially of the 
Rose Garden, because it is an unusual example 
of what can be accomplished without aid of archi- 
tect or landscape gardener, when good taste, care- 




Pergola and Terrace Walk in Rose Garden at Yaddo. 



ful thought, attention to detail, a love of flowers, 
and intent to attain perfection guide the garden's 
makers. It is happily placed in a country of most 
charming topography, but it must not be thought 
that the garden shaped itself; its beautiful propor- 
tions, contour, and shape were carefully studied 
out and brought to the present perfection by the 
same force that is felt in the garden's smallest 



84 



Old Time Gardens 



detail, the power of Love. The Rose Garden is 
unusually large for a formal garden ; with its vistas 
and walks, the connected Daffodil Dell, and the 
Rock Garden, it fills about ten acres. But the 




Statue of Christalan in Rose Garden at Yaddo. 



estate is over eight hundred acres, and the house 
very large in ground extent, so the garden seems 
well-proportioned. This Rose Garden has an 
unusual attraction in the personal interest of every 
detail, such as is found in few American gardens of 
great size, and indeed in few English gardens. The 



Varied Gardens Fair 85 

gardens of the Countess Warwick, at Easton Lodge, 
in Essex, possess the same charm, a personal mean- 
ing and significance in the statues and fountains, and 
even in the planting of flower borders. The illus- 
tration on page 83 depicts the general shape of the 
Yaddo Rose Garden, as seen from the upper ter- 
race ; but it does not show how the garden stretches 
down the fine marble steps, past the marble figures of 
Diana and Paris, and along the paths of standard 
Roses, past the shallow fountain which is not so large 
as to obscure what speaks the garden's story, the 
statue of Christalan, that grand creation in one of 
Mrs. Trask's idyls. Under King Constantine. This 
heroic figure, showing to full extent the genius of 
the sculptor, William Ordway Partridge, also figures 
the genius of the poet-creator, and is of an inexpres- 
sible and impressive nobility. With hand and arm 
held to heaven, Christalan shows against the back- 
ground of rich evergreens as the true knight of this 
garden of sentiment and chivalry. 

'• The sunlight slanting westward through the trees 
Fell first upon his lifted, golden head. 
Making a shining helmet of his curls. 
And then upon the Lilies in his hand. 
His eyes had a defiant, fearless glow ; 
Against the sombre background of the wood 
He looked scarce human." 

The larger and more impressive fountain at Yaddo 
is shown on these pages. It is one hundred feet long 
and seventy feet wide, and is in front of the house, 
to the east. Its marble figures signify the Dawn ; 



86 



Old Time Gardens 



it will be noted that on this site its beauties show 
against a suited and ample background, and its 




Sun-dial in Rose Garden at Yaddo. 

grand proportions are not permitted to obscure 
the fine statue of Christalan from the view of those 
seated on the terrace or walking under the shade of 
the pergola. 



Varied Gardens Fair 



87 



Especially beautiful is the sun-dial on the upper 
terrace, shown on page 86. The metal dial face 
is supported by a marble slab resting on two carved 
standards of classic 
design representing 
conventionalized 
lions, these being 
copies of those two 
splendid standards 
unearthed at Pom- 
peii, which still may 
be seen by the side 
of the impluvium 
in the atrium or 
main hall of the 
finest Graeco- 
Roman dwelling- 
place which has 
been restored in 
that wonderful city. These sun-dial standards at 
Yaddo were made by the permission and under the 
supervision of the Italian government. I can con- 
ceive nothing more fitting or more inspiring to the 
imagination than that, telling as they do the story 
of the splendor of ancient Pompeii and of the pass- 
ing centuries, they should now uphold to our sight 
a sun-dial as if to bid us note the flight of time and 
the vastness of the past. 

The entire sun-dial, with its beautiful adjuncts of 
carefully shaped marble seats, stands on a semicir- 
cular plaza of marble at the head of the noble flight 
of marble steps. The engraved metal dial face 




Bronze Face of Dial in Rose Garden at 
Yaddo. 



88 Old Time Gardens 

bears two exquisite verses — the gift of one poet to 
another — of Dr. Henry Van Dyke to the garden's 
mistress, Katrina Trask. These dial mottoes are 
unusual, and perfect examples of that genius which 
with a few words can shape a lasting gem of our 
English tongue. At the edge of the dial face is this 
motto : 

*' Hours fly, 

Flowers die. 

New Days, 

New Ways, 

Pass by ; 

Love stays." 

At the base of the gnomon is the second motto : — 

Time is 
Too Slow for those who Wait, 
Too Swift for those who Fear, 
Too Long for those who Grieve, 
Too Short for those who Rejoice ; 
But for those who Love, 

Time is 

Eternity. 

I have for years been a student of sun-dial lore, 
a collector of sun-dial mottoes and inscriptions, of 
which I have many hundreds. I know nowhere, 
either in English, on English or Scotch sun-dials, 
or in the Continental tongues, any such exquisite 
dial legends as these two — so slight of form, so 
simple in wording, so pure in diction, yet of senti- 
ment, of thought, how full! how impressive! They 
stamp themselves forever on the memory as beauti- 
ful examples of what James Russell Lowell called 
verbal magic ; that wonderful quality which comes, 



Varied Gardens Fair 



89 



neither from chosen words, nor from their careful 
combination into sentences, but from something 



•^MU, ' V 


\ 


^^. 


1 








„,Jj 






^«i 






^ 


tf^ 






r 




r 




"t^^^^^^^^^L 


. * '• ^ A-*^-» <^ ■ 


■m^ 


jpPi^^^^HI^^^^^J^ ", ^ -^ 




BBH^*" 




'^'''iiiifi'ili*"*"*^' " * ' '^* ■ 


^rwWTI 


j»j 






._.<»^hHII 



Ancient Pine in Garden at Yaddo. 

which is as inexpHcable in its nature as it is in its 
charm. 



90 



Old Time Gardens 



To tree lovers the gardens and grounds at Yaddo 
have glorious charms in their splendid trees ; but 
one can be depicted here — the grand native Pine, 
over eight feet in diameter, which, with other stately 
sentinels of its race, stands a sombrely beautiful 
guard over all this loveliness. 



CHAPTER IV 



BOX EDGINGS 

•' They walked over the crackhng leaves in the garden, between 
the lines of" Box, breathing its fragrance of eternity ; for this is one 
ot the odors which carry us out of time into the abysses of the 
unbeginning past ; if we ever lived on another ball of stone than 
this, it must be that there was Box growing on it." 

— Ehie Venrier, Oliver Wendell Holmes, i86i. 



O many of us, besides Dr. Holmes, 
the unique aroma of the Box, 
cleanly bitter in scent as in taste, 
is redolent of the eternal past ; it 
is almost hypnotic in its effect. 
This strange power is not felt by 
all, nor is it a present sensitory 
influence; it is an hereditary mem- 



^^(tamm 


T^^T^ra 


1 



ory, half-known by many, but fixed in its intensity 
in those of New England birth and descent, true 
children of the Puritans; to such ones the Box 
breathes out the very atmosphere of New England's 
past. I cannot see in clear outline those prim gar- 
dens of centuries ago, nor the faces of those who 
walked and worked therein ; but I know, as I stroll 
to-day between our old Box-edged borders, and in- 
hale the beloved bitterness of fragrance, and gather 
a stiff sprig of the beautiful glossy leaves, that in 
truth the garden lovers and garden workers ot 

91 



92 Old Time Gardens 

other days walk beside me, though unseen and 
unheard. 

About thirty years ago a bright young Yankee 
girl went to the island of Cuba as a governess to 
the family of a sugar planter. It was regarded as a 
somewhat perilous adventure by her home-staying 
folk, and their apprehensions of ill were realized in 
her death there five years later. This was not, how- 
ever, all that happened to her. The planter's wife 
had died in this interval of time, and she had been 
married to the widower. A daughter had been born, 
who, after her mother's death, was reared in the 
Southern island, in Cuban ways, having scant and 
formal communication with her New England kin. 
When this girl was twenty years old, she came to 
the little Massachusetts town where her mother had 
been reared, and met there a group of widowed and 
maiden aunts, and great-aunts. After sitting for a 
time in her mother's room in the old home, the 
reserve which often exists between those of the same 
race who should be friends but whose lives have been 
widely apart, and who can never have more than 
a passing sight of each other, made them in semi- 
embarrassment and lack of resources of mutual 
interest walk out into the garden. As they passed 
down the path between high lines of Box, the girl 
suddenly stopped, looked in terror at the gate, and 
screamed out in fright, " The dog, the dog, save me, 
he will kill me ! " No dog was there^ but on that 
very spot, between those Box hedges, thirty years 
before, her mother had been attacked and bitten by 
an enraged dog, to the distress and apprehension of 




o 



Box Edgings 93 

the aunts, who all recalled the occurrence, as they 
reassured the fainting and bewildered girl. She, of 
course, had never known aught of this till she was 
told it by the old Box. 

Many other instances of the hypnotic effect of 
Box are known, and also of its strong influence on 
the mind through memory. I know of a man who 
travelled a thousand miles to renew acquaintance and 
propose marriage to an old sweetheart, whom he had 
not seen and scarcely thought of for years, having 
been induced to this act wholly through memories 
of her, awakened by a chance stroll in an old Box- 
edged garden such as those of his youth ; at the gate 
of one of which he had often lingered, after walking 
home with her from singing-school. I ought to be 
able to add that the twain were married as a result 
of this sentimental memory-awakening through the 
old Box; but, in truth, they never came very close 
to matrimony. For when he saw her he remained 
absolutely silent on the subject of marriage; the 
fickle creature forgot the Box scent and the singing- 
school, while she openly expressed to her friends 
her surprise at his aged appearance, and her pity for 
his dulness. For the sense of sight is more powerful 
than that of smell, and the Box might prove a 
master hand at hinting, but it failed utterly in per- 
manent influence. 

Those who have not loved the Box for centuries 
in the persons and with the partial noses of their 
Puritan forbears, complain of its curious scent, say, 
like Polly Peacham, that " they can't abear it," and 
declare that it brings ever the thought of old grave- 



94 Old Time Gardens 

yards. I have never seen Box in ancient burying- 
grounds, they were usually too neglected to be thus 
planted ; but it was given a limited space in the 
cemeteries of the middle of this century. Even 
those borders have now generally been dug up to 
give place to granite copings. 

The scent of Box has been aptly worded by Ga- 
briel d'Annunzio, in his Virgin of the Rocks, in his 
description of a neglected garden. He calls it a 
" bitter sweet odor," and he notes its influence in 
making his wanderers in this garden " reconstruct 
some memory of their far-off childhood." 

The old Jesuit poet Rapin writing in the seven- 
teenth century tells a fanciful tale that — 

" Gardens of old, nor Art, nor Rules obey'd, 
But unadorn'd, or wild Neglect hetray'd ; " 

that Flora's hair hung undressed, neglected " in art- 
less tresses," until in pity another nymph " around 
her head wreath'd a Boxen Bough " from the fields ; 
which so improved her beauty that trim edgings 
were placed ever after — "where flowers disordered 
once at random grew." 

He then describes the various figures of Box, the 
way to plant it, its disadvantages, and the associate 
flowers that should be set with it, all in stilted verse. 

Queen Anne was a royal enemy of Box. By her 
order many of the famous Box hedges at Hampton 
Court were destroyed; by her example, many old 
Box-edged gardens throughout England were rooted 
up. There are manifold objections raised to Box 
besides the dislike of its distinctive odor : heavy 



Box Edgings 



95 



edgings and hedges of Box "take away the heart of 
the ground " and flowers pine within Box-edged 
borders ; the roots of Box on the inside of the 









V 




nt^^i^^f^^i^m 


^^^■H^^^^^HHi^' ~ 






^^^^H^^^^^^^^^^^P'V 



Box Parterre at Hampton. 



flower knot or bed, therefore, have to be cut and 
pulled out in order to leave the earth free for flower 
roots. It is also alleged that Box harbors slugs — 
and I fear it does. 



96 Old Time Gardens 

We are told that it is not well to plant Box edg- 
ings in our gardens, because Box is so frail, is so 
easily winter-killed, that it dies down in ugly fashion. 
Yet see what great trees it forms, even when un- 
trimmed, as in the Prince Garden (page 31). It 
is true that Box does not always flourish in the 
precise shape you wish, but it has nevertheless a 
wonderfully tenacious hold on life. I know nothing 
more suggestive of persistence and of sad sentiment 
than the view otten seen in forlorn city enclosures, 
as you drive past, or rush by in an electric car, of 
an aged bush of Box, or a few feet of old Box hedge 
growing in the beaten earth of a squalid back yard, 
surrounded by dirty tenement houses. Once a fair 
garden there grew ; the turf and flowers and trees 
are vanished ; but spared through accident, or be- 
cause deemed so valueless, the Box still lives. F.ven 
in Washington and other Southern cities, where the 
negro population eagerly gather Box at Christmas- 
tide, you will see these forlorn relics of the garden 
still growing, and their bitter fragrance rises above 
the vile odors of the crowded slums. 

Box formed an important feature of the garden of 
Pliny's favorite villa in Tuscany, which he described 
i^i his letter to ApoUinaris. How I should have 
loved its formal beauty ! On the southern front a 
terrace was bordered with a Box hedge and " embel- 
lished with various figures in Box, the representa- 
tion of divers animals." Beyond was a circus 
formed around by ranges of Box rising in walls 
of varied heights. The middle of this circus was 
ornamented with figures of Box. On one side was a 



Box Edgings 97 

hippodrome set with a plantation of Box trees backed 
with Plane trees ; thence ran a straight walk divided 
by Box hedges into alleys. Thus expanses were 
enclosed, one of which held a beautiful meadow, 
another had " knots of Plane tree," another was 
"set with Box a thousand different forms." Some 
of these were letters expressing the name of the 
owner of all this extravagance; or the initials of 
various fair Roman dames, a very gallant pleasantry 
of young Pliny. Both Plane tree and Box tree of 
such ancient gardens were by tradition nourished 
with wine instead of water. Initials of Box may be 
seen to-day in English gardens, and heraldic devices. 
French gardens vied with English gardens in curious 
patterns in Box. The garden of Versailles during 
the reign of Louis XIV. had a stag chase, in clipped 
Box, with greyhounds in chase. Globes, pyramids, 
tubes, cylinders, cones, arches, and other shapes were 
cut in Box as they were in Yew. 

A very pretty conceit in Box was — 

" Horizontal dials on the ground 
In living Box by cunning artists traced." 

Reference is frequent enough to these dials of 
Box to show that they were not uncommon in fine 
old English gardens. There were sun-dials either 
of Box or Thrift, in the gardens of colleges both 
at Oxford and Cambridge, as may be seen in Log- 
gan's Views. Two modern ones are shown ; one, 
on page 98, is in the garden of Lady Lennox, at 
Broughton Castle, Banbury, England. Another of 
exceptionally fine growth and trim perfection in the 



98 



Old Time Gardens 



garden at Ascott, the seat of Mr. Leopold de Roths- 
child (opposite page loo.) These are curious rather 
than beautiful, but display well that quality given in 
the poet's term " the tonsile Box." 




Sun-dial in Box at Brought. 



Writing of a similar sun-dial, Lady Warwick 
says : — 

"Never was such a perfect timekeeper as my sun-dial, 
and the figures which record the hours are all cut out and 
trimmed in Box, and there again on its outer ring is a le- 
gend which read in whatever way you please : Les heures 
hcuieusos ne se comptent pas. They were outlined tor 
me, those words, in hab\' sprigs of Box by a friend who is 
no more, who loved mv earden and was uood to it." 



Box Edgings 99 

Box hedges were much esteemed in England — 
so says Parkinson, to dry Hnen on, affording the 
raised expanse and even surface so much desired. It 
can always be noted in all domestic records of early 
days that the vast washing of linen and clothing 
was one of the great events of the year. Sometimes, 
in households of plentiful supply, these washings 
were done but once a year; in other homes, semi- 
annually. The drying and bleaching linen was an 
unceasing attraction to rascals like Autolycus, who 
had a " pugging tooth " — that is, a prigging tooth. 
These linen thieves had a special name, they were 
called " prygmen " ; they wandered through the 
country on various pretexts, men and their doxies, 
and were the bane of English housewives. 

The Box hedges were also in constant use to hold 
the bleaching webs of homespun and woven flaxen 
and hempen stuff, which were often exposed for 
weeks in the dew and sunlight. In 1710 a reason 
given for the disuse and destruction of" quicksetted 
arbors and hedges " was that they " agreed very ill 
with the ladies' muslins." 

Box was of little value in the apothecary shop, was 
seldom used in medicine. Parkinson said that the 
leaves and dust of boxwood " boyld in lye " would 
make hair to be " of an Aborne or Abraham color" 
— that is, auburn. This was a very primitive hair 
dye, but it must have been a powerful one. 

Boxwood was a firm, beautiful wood, used to 
make tablets for inscriptions of note. The mottled 
wood near the root was called dudgeon. Holland's 
translation of Pliny says, " The Box tree seldome 



lOO Old Time Gardens 

hath any grain crisped damaske-wise, and never 
but about the root, the which is dudgin." From 
its esteemed use for dagger hilts came the word 
dudgeon-dagger, and the terms " drawn-dudgeon " 
and " high-dudgeon," meaning offence or discord. 

I plead for the Box, not for its fragrance, for you 
may not be so fortunate as to have a Puritan sense 
of smell, nor for its weird influence, for that is in- 
tangible ; but because it is the most becoming of 
all edgings to our garden borders of old-time flow- 
ers. The clear compact green of its shining leaves, 
the trim distinctness of its clipped lines, the attri- 
butes that made Pope term it the " shapely Box," 
make it the best of all foils for the varied tints of 
foliage, the many colors of bloom, and the careless 
grace in growth of the flowers within the border. 

Box edgings are pleasant, too, in winter, showing 
in grateful relief against the tiresome monotony of 
the snow expanse. And they bear sometimes a 
crown of lightest snow wreaths, which seem like a 
white blossoming in promise of the beauties of the 
border in the coming summer. Pick a bit of this 
winter Box, even with the mercury below zero. Lo ! 
you have a breath of the hot dryness of the mid- 
summer garden. 

Box grows to great size, even twenty feet in 
height. In Southern gardens, where it is seldom 
winter-killed, it is often of noble proportions. In 
the lovely garden of Martha Washington at Mount 
Vernon the Box is still preserved in the beauty and 
interest of its original form. 

The Box edgings and hedges of many other 



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Box Edgings loi 

Southern gardens still are in good condition ; those 
of the old Preston homestead at Columbia, South 
Carolina (shown on pages 15 and 18, and facing 
page 54), owe their preservation during the Civil 
War to the fact that the house was then the refuge 
of a sisterhood of nuns. The Ridgely estate, 
Hampton, in County Baltimore, Maryland, has a 
formal garden in which the perfection of the Box is 
a delight. The will of Captain Charles Ridgely, in 
1787, made an appropriation of money and land for 
this garden. The high terrace which overlooks the 
garden and the shallow ones which break the south- 
ern slope and mark the boundaries of each parterre 
are fine examples of landscape art, and are said to be 
the work of Major Chase Barney, a famous military 
engineer. By 1829 the garden was an object of 
beauty and much renown. A part only of the origi- 
nal parterre remains, but the more modern flower bor- 
ders, through the unusual perspective and contour 
of the garden, do not clash with the old Box-edged 
beds. These edgings were reset in 1870, and are 
always kept very closely cut. The circular domes 
of clipped box arise from stems at least a hundred 
years old. The design of the parterre is so satis- 
factory that I give three views of it in order to 
show it fully. (See pages 57, 60, and 95.) 

A Box-edged garden of much beauty and large 
extent existed for some years in the grounds con- 
nected with the County Jai) in Fitchburg, Massa- 
chusetts. It was laid out by the wife of the warden, 
aided by the manual labor of convicted prisoners, 
with her earnest hope that working among flowers 



I02 Old Time Gardens 

would have a benefiting and softening influence 
on these criminals. She writes rather dubiously : 
*' They all enjoyed being out of doors with their 
pipes, whether among the flowers or the vegetables ; 
and no attempt at escape was ever made by any 
of them while in the comparative freedom of the 
flower-garden." She planted and marked distinctly 
in this garden over seven hundred groups of an- 
nuals and hardy perennials, hoping the men would 
care to learn the names of the flowers, and through 
that knowledge, and their practise in the care of 
Box edgings and hedges, be able to obtain positions 
as under-gardeners when their terms of imprison- 
ment expired. 

The garden at Tudor Place, the home of Mrs. 
Beverley Kennon (page 103), displays fine Box; 
and the garden of the poet Longfellow which is 
said to have been laid out after the Box-edged 
parterres at Versailles. Throughout this book are 
scattered several good examples of Box from Salem 
and other towns ; in a sweet, old garden on Kings- 
ton Hill, Rhode Island (page 104) the flower-beds 
are anchor-shaped. 

in favorable climates Box edgings may grow in 
such vigor as to entirely fill the garden beds. An 
example of this is given on page 105, showing the 
garden at Tuckahoe. The beds were laid out over 
a large space of ground in a beautiful design, which 
still may be faintly seen by examining the dark ex- 
panse beside the house, which is now almost solid 
Box. The great hedges by the avenue are also 
Box; between similar ones at Uhpton Court in 



Box Edgings 



103 



Camden, South Carolina, riders on horseback can- 
not be seen nor see over it. New England towns 
seldom show such growth of Box ; but in Hingham, 
Massachusetts, at the home of Mrs. Robbins, author 
of that charming book, The Rescue of an Old Places 




Garden at Tudor Place. 



there is a Box bower, with walls of Box fifteen feet 
in height. These walls were originally the edgings 
of a flower bed on the " Old Place." Read Dr. 
John Brown's charming account of the Box bower 
of the "Queen's Maries." 

Box grows on Long Island with great vigor. At 
Brecknock Hall, the family residence of Mrs. Albert 



I04 



Old Time Gardens 



Delafield at Greenport, Long Island, the hedges of 
plain and variegated Box are unusually fine, and the 
paths are well laid out. Some of them are entirely 
covered by the closing together ot the two hedges 
which are often six or seven feet in height. 

In spite of the constant assertion ot the winter- 
killing of Box in the North, the oldest Box in 




Anchor-shaped Flower-beds. Kingston, Rhode Island. 



the country is that at Sylvester Manor, Shelter 
Island, New York. The estate is now owned by 
the tenth mistress of the manor, Miss Cornelia 
Horsford; the first mistress of the manor, Grissel 
Sylvester, who had been Grissel Gardiner, came 
there in 1652. It is told, and is doubtless true, that 
she brought there the first Box plants, to make, in 
what was then a far-away island, a semblance of her 



Box Edgings 



105 



home garden. It is said that this Box was thriving 
in Madam Sylvester's garden when George Fox 
preached there to the Indians. The oldest Box is 
fifteen or eighteen feet high ; not so tali, I think, as 
the neglected Box at Vaucluse, the old Hazard place 
near Newport, but far more massive and thrifty and 
shapely. Box needs unusual care and judgment, an 
instinct almost, for the removal of certain portions. 




Ancient Box at Tuckakoe. 



It sends out tiny rootlets at the joints of the sprays, 
and these grow readily. The largest and oldest 
Box bushes at Sylvester Manor garden are a study 
in their strong, hearty stems, their perfect foliage, 
their symmetry; they show their care of centuries. 
The delightful Box-edged flower beds were laid 
out in their present form about seventy years ago 
by the grandfather of the present owner. There 
is a Lower Garden, a Terrace Garden, which are 
shown on succeeding pages, a Fountain Garden, a 



io6 Old Time Gardens 

Rose Garden, a Water Garden ; a bit of the latter is 
on page 75. In some portions of these gardens, 
especially on the upper terrace, the Box is so high, 
and set in such quaint and rambling figures, that it 
closely approaches an old English maze; and it was 
a pretty sight to behold a group of happv little 
children running in and out among these Box hedges 
that extended high over their heads, searching long 
and eagerly for the central bower where their little 
tea party was set. 

Over these old garden borders hangs literally an 
atmosphere of the past ; the bitter perfume stimu- 
lates the imagination as we walk by the side of 
these splendid Box bushes, and think, as every one 
must, of what they have seen, of what they know ; 
on this garden is written the history of over two 
centuries of beautiful domestic home life. It is well 
that we still have such memorials to teach us the 
nobility and beauty of such a life. 



CHAPTER V 



THE HERB GARDEN 



" To have nothing here but Sweet Herbs, and those only choice 
ones too, and every kind its bed by itself." 

— Desiderius Erasmus, 1500. 




N Montaigne's time it was the 
custom to dedicate special chap- 
ters of books to special persons. 
Were it so to-day, I should dedi- 
cate this chapter to the memory 
of a friend who has been con- 
stantly in my mind while writing 
it ; for she formed in her beautiful garden, near our 
modern city, Chicago, the only perfect herb garden 
I know, — a garden that is the counterpart of the 
garden of Erasmus, made four centuries ago; for 
in it are " nothing but Sweet Herbs, and choice 
ones too, and every kind its bed by itself." A 
corner of it is shown on page io8. This herb 
garden is so well laid out that I will give direc- 
tions therefrom for a bed of similar planting. It 
may be placed at the base of a grass bank or at 
the edge of a garden. Let two garden walks be laid 
out, one at the lower edge, perhaps, of the bank, 
the other parallel, ten, fifteen, twenty feet away. 
Let narrow paths be left at regular intervals running 

107 



io8 



Old Time Gardens 



parallel from walk to walk, as do the rounds of a 
ladder from the two side bars. In the narrow oblong 
beds formed by these paths plant solid rows of 
herbs, each variety by itself, with no attempt at 
diversity of design. You can thus walk among them, 
and into them, and smell them in their concentrated 
strength, and you can gather them at ease. On the 
bank can be placed the creeping Thyme, and other 




Herb Garden at White Birches, Elmhurst, Illinois. 

low-running herbs. Medicinal shrubs should be the 
companions of the herbs ; plant these as you will, 
according to their growth and habit, making them 
give variety of outline to the herb garden. 

There are few persons who have a strong enough 
love of leaf scents, or interest in herbs, to make 
them willing to spend much time in working in 
an herb garden. The beauty and color of flowers 
would compensate them, but not the growth or 



The Herb Garden 109 

scent of leafage. It is impossible to describe to 
one who does not feel by instinct " the lure of 
green things growing," the curious stimulation, the 
sense of intoxication, of delight, brought by working 
among such green-growing, sweet-scented things. 
The maker of this interesting garden felt this stimu- 
lation and delight ; and at her city home on a 
bleak day in December we both revelled in holding 
and breathing in the scent of tiny sprays of Rue, 
Rosemary, and Balm which, still green, had been 
gathered from beneath fallen leaves and stalks in 
her country garden, as a tender and grateful atten- 
tion of one herb lover to another. Thus did she 
prove Shakespeare's words true even on the shores 
of Lake Michigan : — 

*♦ Rosemary and Rue: these keep 

Seeming and savor all the winter long." 

There is ample sentiment in the homely inhabi- 
tants of the herb garden. The herb garden of the 
Countess of Warwick is called by her a Garden of 
Sentiment. Each plant is labelled with a pottery 
marker, swallow-shaped, bearing in ineradicable 
colors the flower name and its significance. Thus 
there is Balm for sympathy. Bay for glory, Fox- 
glove for sincerity, Basil for hatred. 

A recent number of The Garden deplored the dying 
out of herbs in old English gardens ; so I think 
it may prove of interest to give the list of herbs 
and medicinal shrubs and trees which grew in this 
friend's herb garden in the new world across the sea. 



iio Old Time Gardens 

Arnica, Anise, Ambrosia, Agrimony, Aconite. 

Belladonna, Black Alder, Betony, Boneset or Thorough- 
wort, Svv^eet Basil, Bryony, Borage, Burnet, Butternut, 
Balm, Melhsa officinalis^ Balm (variegated). Bee-balm, or 
Oswego tea, mild, false, and true Bergamot, Burdock, 
Bloodroot, Black Cohosh, Barberry, Bittersweet, Butterfly- 
weed, Birch, Blackberry, Button-Snakeroot, Buttercup. 

Costmary, or Sweet Mary, Calamint, Choke-cherry, 
Comfrey, Coriander, Cumin, Catnip, Caraway, Chives, 
Castor-oil Bean, Colchicum, Cedronella, Camomile, Chic- 
ory, Cardinal-flower, Celandine, Cotton, Cranesbill, Cow- 
parsnip, High-bush Cranberry. 

Dogwood, Dutchman's-pipe, Dill, Dandelion, Dock, 
Dogbane. 

Elder, Elecampane, Slippery Elm. 

Sweet Fern, Fraxinella, Fennel, Flax, f\imitory, Fig, 
Sweet Flag, Blue Flag, Foxglove. 

Goldthread, Gentian, Goldenrod. 

Hellebore, Henbane, Hops, Horehound, Hyssop, Horse- 
radish, Horse-chestnut, Hemlock, Small Hemlock or 
Fool's Parsley. 

American Ipecac, Indian Hemp, Poison Ivy, wild, 
false, and blue Indigo, wild yellow Indigo, wild white 
Indigo. 

Juniper, Joepye-weed. 

Lobelia, Lovage, Lavender Lemon Verbena, Lemon, 
Mountain Laurel, Yellow Lady's-slippers, Lily of the Val- 
ley, Liverwort, Wild Lettuce, Field Larkspur, Lungwort. 

Mosquito plant. Wild Mint, Motherwort, Mullein, Sweet 
Marjoram, Meadowsweet, Marshmallow, Mandrake, Mul- 
berry, black and white Mustard, Mayweed, Mugwort, 
Marigold. 

Nisella. 

Opium Poppy, Orange, Oak. 

Pulsatilla, Pellitory or Pyrethrum, Red Pepper, Pepper- 



The Herb Garden 



1 1 1 




Garden at White Birches, Elmhurst, Illinois. 



mint, Pennyroyal, False Pennyroyal, Pope-weed, Pine, 
Pigweed, Pumpkin, Parslev, Prince's-pine, Peony, Plantain. 
Rhubarb, Rue, Rosemary, Rosa gallica. Dog Rose. 



112 Old Time Gardens 

Sassafras, Saxifrage, Sweet Cicely, Sage (common blue). 
Sage (red). Summer Savory, Winter Savory, Santonin, 
Sweet Woodruff, Saffron, Spearmint, wild Sarsaparilla, 
Black Snakeroot, Squills, Senna, St.-John's-Wort, Sorrel, 
Spruce Fir, Self-heal, Southernwood. 

Thorn Apple, Tansv, Thyme, Tobacco, Tarragon. 

Valerian, Dogtooth Violet, Blue Violet. 

Witchhazel, Wormwood, Wintergreen, Willow, Walnut. 

Yarrow. 

It will be noted that some common herbs and 
medicinal plants are missing; there is, for instance, 
no Box; it will not live in that climate; and there 
are many other herbs which this garden held for a 
short time, but which succumbed under the fierce 
winter winds from Lake Michigan. 

It is interesting to compare this list with one 
made in rhyme three centuries ago, the garland of 
herbs of the nymph Lelipa in Drayton's Muse's 
Elyzium. 

" A chaplet then of Herbs I'll make 

Than which though yours be braver. 
Yet this of mine I'll undertake 

Shall not be short in savour. 
With Basil then I will begin. 

Whose scent is wondrous pleasing : 
This Eglantine I'll next put in 

The sense with sweetness seizing. 
Then in my Lavender I lay 

Muscado put among it. 
With here and there a leaf of Bay, 

Which still shall run along it. 
Germander, Marjoram and Thyme, 

Which used are for strewing ; 
With Hyssop as an herb most prime 



The Herb Garden 113 

Here in my wreath bestowing. 
Then Balm and Mint help to make up 

My chaplet, and for trial 
Costmary that so likes the Cup, 

And next it Pennyroyal. 
Then Burnet shall bear up with this. 

Whose leaf I greatly fancy ; 
Some Camomile doth not amiss 

With Savory and some Tansy. 
Then here and there I'll put a sprig 

Of Rosemary into it. 
Thus not too Little nor too Big, 

'Tis done if I can do it." 

Another name for the herb garden was the oHtory ; 
and the word herber, or herbar, would at first sight 
appear to be an herbarium, an herb garden ; it was 
really an arbor, 1 have such satisfaction in herb 
gardens, and in the herbs themselves, and in all 
their uses, all their lore, that I am confirmed in my 
belief that I really care far less for Botany than for 
that old-time regard and study of plants covered by 
the significant name, Wort-cunning. Wort was a 
good old common English word, lost now in our use, 
save as the terminal syllable of certain plant-names; 
it is a pity we have given it up since its equivalent, 
herb, seems so variable in application, especially in 
that very trying expression of which we weary 
so of late — herbaceous border. This seems an 
architect's phrase rather than a florist's ; you always 
find it on the plans of fine houses with gardens. To 
me it annihilates every possibility of sentiment, and 
it usually isn't correct, since many of the plants in 
these borders are woody perennials instead of an- 



114 O^^ Time Gardens 

nuals; any garden planting that is not "bedding- 
out" is wildly named "an herbaceous border." 

Herb gardens were no vanity and no luxury in 
our grandmothers' day ; they were a necessity. To 
them every good housewife turned for nearly all 
that gave variety to her cooking, and to fill her 
domestic pharmacopoeia. The physician placed his 
chief reliance for supplies on herb gardens and the 
simples of the fields. An old author says, " Many 
an old wife or country woman doth often more 
good with a few known and common garden herbs, 
than our bombast physicians, with all their pro- 
digious, sumptuous, far-fetched, rare, conjectural 
medicines," Doctor and goodwife both had a rival 
in the parson. The picture of the country parson 
and his wife given by old George Herbert was 
equally true of the New England minister and his 
wife : — 

" In the knowledge of simples one thing would be care- 
fully observed, which is to know what herbs may be used 
instead of drugs of the same nature, and to make the garden 
the shop ; for home-bred medicines are both more easy for 
the parson's purse, and more familiar for all men's bodies. 
So when the apothecary useth either for loosing Rhubarb, 
or for binding Bolearmana, the parson useth damask or 
white Rose for the one, and Plantain, Shepherd's Purse, and 
Knot-grass for the other ; and that with better success. 
As for spices, he doth not only prefer home-bred things 
before them, but condemns them for vanities, and so shuts 
them out of his family, esteeming that there is no spice 
comparable for herbs to Rosemary, Thyme, savory Mints, 
and for seeds to Fennel and Caraway. Accordingly, for 



The Herb Garden ii^ 

salves, his wife seeks not the city, but prefers her gardens 
and fields before all outlandish gums," 

Simples were medicinal plants, so called because 
each of these vegetable growths was held to possess 
an individual virtue, to be an element, a simple 
substance constituting a single remedy. The noun 
was generally used in the plural. 

You must not think that sowing, gathering, dry- 
ing, and saving these herbs and simples in any con- 
venient or unstudied way was all that was necessary. 
Not at all ; many and manifold were the rules just 
when to plant them, when to pick them, how to pick 
them, how to dry them, and even how to keep them. 
Gervayse Markham was very wise in herb lore, in 
the suited seasons of the moon, and hour of the day 
or night, for herb culling. In the garret of every old 
house, such as that of the Ward Homestead, shown 
on page ii6, with the wreckage of house furniture, 
were hung bunches of herbs and simples, waiting for 
winter use. 

The still-room was wholly devoted to storing 
these herbs and manufacturing their products. This 
was the careful work of the house mistress and her 
daughters. It was not intrusted to servants. One 
book of instruction was entitled. The Vertuouse Boke 
ofDistyllacyon of the Waters of all Manner of Herbs. 

Thomas Tusser wrote : — 

" Good huswives provide, ere an sickness do come. 
Of sundrie good things in house to have some. 
Good aqua composita, vinegar tart. 
Rose water and treacle to comfort the heart, 



ii6 



Old Time Gardens 



Good herbes in the garden for agues that burn. 
That over strong heat to good temper turn." 

Both still-room and simple-closet of a dame of 
the time of Queen Elizabeth or Queen Anne had 




Under the Garret Eaves of the Ward Homestead, Shrewsbury, 
Massachusetts. 

crowded shelves. Manv an herb and root, unused 
to-day, was deemed then of sovereign worth. From 
a manuscript receipt book I have taken names of 



The Herb Garden 117 

ingredients, many of which are seldom, perhaps 
never, used now in medicine. Unripe Blackber- 
ries, Ivy berries, Eglantine berries, "Ashen Keys," 
Acorns, stones of Sloes, Parsley seed, Houseleeks, 
unripe Hazelnuts, Daisy roots. Strawberry "strings," 
Woodbine tops, the inner bark of Oak and of red 
Filberts, green " Broom Cod," White Thorn berries. 
Turnips, Barberry bark, Dates, Goldenrod, Gourd 
seed. Blue Lily roots. Parsnip seed. Asparagus roots. 
Peony roots. 

From herbs and simples were made, for internal 
use, liquid medicines such as wines and waters, 
syrups, juleps; and solids, such as conserves, con- 
fections, treacles, eclegms, tinctures. There were 
for external use, amulets, oils, ointments, liniments, 
plasters, cataplasms, salves, poultices ; also sacculi, 
little bags of flowers, seeds, herbs, etc., and poman- 
ders and posies. 

That a certain stimulus could be given to the brain 
by inhaling the scent of these herbs will not be 
doubted, I think, by the herb lover even of this 
century. In the Haven of Healthy 1636, cures 
were promised by sleeping on herbs, smelling of 
them, binding the leaves on the forehead, and in- 
haling the vapors of their boiling or roasting. 
Mint was "a good Posie for Students to oft smell." 
Pennyroyal "quickened the brain by smelling oft." 
Basil cleared the wits, and so on. 

The use of herbs in medicine is far from being 
obsolete; and when we give them more stately names 
we swallow the same dose. Dandehon bitters is still 
used for diseases caused by an ill-working liver. 



ii8 Old Time Gardens 

Wintergreen, which was universally made into tea or 
oil for rheumatism, appears now in prescriptions for 
the same disease under the name of Gaultheria. 
Peppermint, once a sovereign cure for heartburn 
and " nuralogy," serves us decked with the title of 
Menthol. " Saffern-tea " never has lost its good 
standing as a cure for the "jarnders." In coun- 
try communities scores of old herbs and simples 
are used in vast amounts ; and in every village 
is some aged man or woman wise in gathering, dis- 
tilling, and compounding these " potent and parable 
medicines," to use Cotton Mather's words. One of 
these gatherers of simples is shown opposite page 
1 20, a quaint old figure, seen afar as we drive through 
country by-roads, as she bends over some dense 
clump of weeds in distant meadow or pasture. 

In our large city markets bunches of sweet herbs 
are still sold ; and within a year I have seen men 
passing my city home selling great bunches of Cat- 
nip and Mint, in the spring, and dried Sage, Marjo- 
ram, and other herbs in the autumn. In one case 
I noted that it was the same man, unmistakably a 
real countryman, whom I had noted selling quail on 
the street, when he had about forty as fine quail as 
I ever saw. I never saw him sell quail, nor herbs. 
I think his customers are probably all foreigners — 
emigrants from continental Europe, chiefly Poles and 
Italians. 

The use of herbs as component parts of love 
philters and charms is a most ancient custom, and 
lingered into the nineteenth century in country com- 
munities. I knew but one case of the manufacture 



The Herb Garden 119 

and administering of a love philter, and it was by a 
person to whom such an action would seem utterly 
incongruous. A very gentle, retiring girl in a New 
England town eighty years ago was deeply in love 
with the minister whose church she attended, and 
of which her father was the deacon. The parson 
was a widower, nearly of middle age, and exceedingly 
sombre and reserved in character — saddened, doubt- 
less, by the loss of his two young children and his 
wife through that scourge of New England, con- 
sumption; but he was very handsome, and even his 
sadness had its charm. His house, had burned 
down as an additional misfortune, and he lived in 
lodgings with two elderly women of his congregation. 
Therefore church meetings and various gatherings 
of committees were held at the deacon's house, and 
the deacon's daughter saw him day after day, and 
grew more desperately in love. Desperate certainlv 
she was when she dared even to think of giving a 
love philter to a minister. The recipe was clearly 
printed on the last page of an old dream book ; and 
she carried it out in every detail. It was easy to 
introduce it into the mug of flip which was always 
brewed for the meeting, and the parson drank it 
down abstractedly, thinking that it seemed more 
bitter than usual, but showing no sign of this 
thought. The philter was promised to have effect 
in making the drinker love profoundly the first per- 
son of opposite sex whom he or she saw after drink- 
ing it; and of course the minister saw Hannah as 
she stood waiting for his empty tankard. The dull 
details of parish work were talked over in the usual 



I20 Old Time Gardens 

dragging way for half an hour, when the minister 
became conscious of an intense coldness which 
seemed to benumb him in every limb ; and he 
tried to walk to the fireplace. Suddenly all in the 
room became aware that he was very ill, and one 
called out, " He's got a stroke." Luckily the town 
doctor was also a deacon, and was theretore present ; 
and he promptly said, " He's' poisoned," and hot 
water from the teakettle, whites of eggs, mustard, 
and other domestic antidotes were administered with 
promptitude and effect. It is useless to detail the 
days of agony to the wretched 2;irl, during which the 
sick man wavered between lite and death, nor her 
devoted care of him. Soon after his recovery he 
solemnlv proposed marriage to her, and was refused. 
But he never wavered in his love for her; and every 
year he renewed his offer and told his wishes, to be 
met ever with a cold refusal, until ten years had 
passed ; when into his brain there entered a percep- 
tion that her refusal had some extraordinary element 
in it. Then, with a warmth ot determination worthy 
a younger man, he demanded an explanation, and 
received a confession of the poisonous love philter. 
I suppose time had softened the memory of his suf- 
fering, at any rate thev were married — so the promise 
of the love charm came true, after all. 

Amos Bronson Alcott was another author of 
Concord, a sweet philosopher whom I shall ever 
remember with deepest gratitude as the only person 
who in my early vouth ever imagined any literary 
capacity in me (and in that he was sadly mistaken, 
for he fancied I would be a poet). I have read 




A Gatherer of Simples. 



The Herb Garden I2i 

very faithfully all his printed writings, trying to 
believe him a great man, a seer ; but 1 cannot, in 
spite of my gratitude for his flattering though unful- 
filled prophecy, discover in his books any profound 
signs of depth or novelty of thought. In his 
Tablets are some very pleasant, if not surprisingly 
wise, essays on domestic subjects; one, on "Sweet 
Herbs," tells cheerfully of the womanly care of the 
herb garden, but shows that, when written — about 
1850 — borders of herbs were growing infrequent. 

One great delight of old English gardens is never 
afforded us in New England ; we do not grow 
Lavender beds. I have of course seen single plants 
of Lavender, so easily winter-killed, but I never 
have seen a Lavender bed, nor do I know of one. 
It is a great loss. A bed or hedge of Lavender is 
pleasing in the same way that the dress of a Quaker 
lady is pleasing; it is reposeful, refined. It has a 
soft effect at the edge of a garden, like a blue-gray 
haze, and always reminds me of doves. The power 
of association or some inherent qualitv of the plant, 
makes Lavender always suggest freshness and clean- 
liness. 

We may linger a little with a few of these old 
herb favorites. One of the most balmy and beauti- 
ful of all the sweet breaths borne by leaves or 
blossoms is that of Basil, which, alas ! I see so sel- 
dom. I have always loved it, and can never pass 
it without pressing its leaves in my hand ; and I 
cannot express the satisfaction, the triumph, with 
which I read these light-giving lines of old Thomas 
Tusser, which showed me why I loved it : — 



122 Old Time Gardens 

•' Faire Basil desireth it may he hir lot 
To growe as the gilly flower trim in a pot 
That Ladies and Gentils whom she doth serve 
May help hir as needeth life to preserve." 

An explanation of this rhyme is given by Tusser 
Redivivus : " Most people stroak Garden Basil 
which leaves a grateful smell on the hand and he will 
have it that Stroaking from a fair lady preserves the 
life of the Basil." 

This is a striking example of floral telepathy ; 
you know what the Basil wishes, and the Basil knows 
and craves your affection, and repays your caress 
with her pertume and growth. It is a case of 
mutual attraction ; and I beg the " Gentle Reader" 
never to pass a pot or plant of Basil without 
" stroaking" it; that it may grow and multiply and 
forever retain its relations with fair women, as a type 
of the purest, the most clinging, and grateful love. 

One amusing use of Basil (as given in one of 
my daughter's old Herbals) was intended to check 
obesity : — 

"To MAKE THAT A WoMAN SHALL EAT OF NoTHING 

THAT IS SET UPON THE Table : — Take a little green 
Basil, and when Men bring the Dishes to the Table put 
it underneath them that the Woman perceive it not ; so 
Men say that she will eat of none of that which is in the 
Dish whereunder the Basil lieth." 

I cannot understand why so sinister an association 
was given to a pot of Basil by Boccaccio, who 
makes the unhappy Isabella conceal the head of her 
murdered lover in a flower pot under a plant of 



The Herb Garden 123 

Basil; for in Italy Basil is ever a plant of love, not 
of jealousy or crime. One of its common names 
is Bacia, Nicola — Kiss me, Nicholas. Peasant girls 
always place Basil in their hair when they go to 
meet their sweethearts, and an offered sprig of Basil 
is a love declaration. It is believed that Boccaccio 
obtained this tale from some tradition of ancient 
Greece, where Basil is a symbol of hatred and de- 
spair. The figure of poverty was there associated 
with a Basil plant as with rags. It had to be sown 
with abuse, with cursing and railing, else it would 
not flourish. In India its sanctity is above all 
other herbs. A pious Indian has at death a leaf of 
Basil placed in his bosom as his reward. The house 
surrounded by Basil is blessed, and all who cherish 
the plant are sure of heaven. 

Mithridate was a favorite medicine of our Puritan 
ancestors ; there were various elaborate compound 
rules for its manufacture, in which Rue always took 
a part. It was simple enough in the beginning, 
when King Mithridates invented it as an antidote 
against poison: twenty leaves of Rue pounded with 
two Figs, two dried Walnuts and a grain of salt ; 
which receipt may be taken cum gram salis. Rue 
also entered into the composition of the famous 
" Vinegar of the Four Thieves." These four ras- 
cals, at the time of the Plague in Marseilles, invented 
this vinegar, and, protected by its power, entered 
infected houses and carried away property without 
taking the disease. Rue had innumerable virtues. 
Pliny says eighty-four remedies were made of it. 
It was of special use in case of venomous bites, 



124 ^^^ Time Gardens 

and to counteract " Head-Ach " from over indul- 
gence in wine, especially if a little Sage were added. 
It promoted love in man and diminished it in 
woman ; it was good for the ear-ache, eye-ache, 
stomach-ache, leg-ache, back-ache ; good for an ague, 
good for a surfeit ; indeed, it would seem wise to 
make Rue a daily article of food and thus insure 
perpetual good health. 

The scent of Rue seems never dying. A sprig 
of it was given me by a friend, and it chanced to 
lie for a single night on the sheets of paper upon 
which this chapter is written. The scent has never 
left them, and indeed the odor of Rue hangs literally 
around this whole book. 

Summer Savory and Sweet Marjoram are rarely 
employed now in American cooking. They are still 
found in my kitchen, and are used in scant amount 
as a flavoring for stuffing of fowl. Many who taste 
and like the result know not the old-fashioned mate- 
rials used to produce that flavor, and "of the younger 
sort" the names even are wholly unrecognized. 

Sage is almost the only plant of the English 
kitchen garden which is ordinarily grown in America. 
I like its fresh gravness in the garden. In the 
days of our friend John Gerarde, the beloved old 
herbalist, there was no fixed botanical nomenclature; 
but he scarcely needed botanical terms, for he had a 
most felicitous and dextrous use of words. " Sage 
hath broad leaves, long, wrinkled, rough, and whit- 
ish, like in roughness to woollen cloth threadbare." 
What a description ! it is far more vivid than the 
picture here shown. Sage has never lost its estab- 



The Herb Garden 



125 




Our Friend, John Gerarde. 

lished place as a flavoring for the stuffing for ducks, 
geese, and for sausages; but its universal em- 
ployment as a flavoring for Sage cheese is nearly 
obsolete. In my childhood home, we always had 
Sage cheese with other cheeses ; it was believed to 
be an aid in digestion. I had forgotten its taste ; 
and I must say I didn't like it when I ate it last 
summer, in New Hampshire. 

Tansy was highly esteemed in England as a medi- 
cine, a cosmetic, and a flavoring and ingredient in 
cooking. It was rubbed over raw meat to keep the 
flies away and prevent decay, for in those days of 



126 



Old Time Gardens 



no refrigerators there had to be strong measures 
taken for the perservation of all perishable food. 
Its strong scent and taste would be deemed intoler- 
able to us, who can scarce endure even the milder 
Sage in any large quantity. A good folk name for 
it is " Bitter Buttons." Gerarde wrote of Tansy, 




Sage. 

" In the spring time, are made with the leaves 
hereof newly sprung up, and with Eggs, cakes or 
Tansies, which be pleasant in Taste and goode for 
the Stomach." 

" To Make a Tansie the Best Way," I learn from 
The Accom-plisht Cook^ was thus : — 



" Take twenty Eggs, and take away five whites, strain 
them with a quart of good sweet thick Cream, and put to 
it a grated nutmeg, a race of ginger grated, as much cinna- 



The Herb Garden 127 

mon beaten fine, and a penny white loaf grated also, mix 
them all together with a little salt, then stamp some 
green wheat with some tansie herbs, strain it into the 
cream and eggs and stir all together ; then take a clean 
frying-pan, and a quarter of a pound of butter, melt it, and 
put in the tansie, and stir it continually over the fire with 
a slice, ladle, or saucer, chop it, and break it as it thickens, 
and being well incorporated put it out of the pan into a 
dish, and chop it very fine ; then make the frying-pan very 
clean, and put in some more butter, melt it, and fry it 
whole or in spoonfuls ; being finely fried on both sides, 
dish it up and sprinkle it with rose-vinegar, grape-verjuyce, 
elder-vinegar, cowslip-vinegar, or the juyce of three or 
four oranges, and strow on a good store of fine sugar." 

To all of this we can say that it would certainly 
be a very good dish — without the Tansy. An- 
other mediaeval recipe was of Tansy, Feverfew, 
Parsley, and Violets mixed with eggs, fried in butter, 
and sprinkled with sugar. 

The Minnow-Tansie of old Izaak Walton, a 
"Tanzie for Lent," was made thus: — 

" Beino; well washed with salt and cleaned, and their 
heads and tails cut off, and not washed after, they prove ex- 
cellent for that use ; that is being fried with the yolks of 
eggs, the flowers of cowslips and of primroses, and a little 
tansy, thus used they make a dainty dish." 

The name Tansy was given afterward to a rich 
fruit cake which had no Tansy in it. It was appar- 
ently a favorite dish of Pepys. A certain derivative 
custom obtained in some New England towns — 
certainly in Hartford and vicinity. Tansy was used 



128 Old Time Gardens 

to flavor the Fast Day pudding. One old lady re- 
calls that it was truly a bitter food to the younger 
members of the family ; Miss Shelton, in her enter- 
taining book, The Salt Box House, tells of Tansy 
cakes, and says children did not dislike them. 
Tansy* bitters were made of Tansy leaves placed 
in a bottle with New England rum. They were 
a favorite spring tonic, where all physicians and 
housewives prescribed " the bitter principle " in the 
spring time. 

No doubt T^ansy was among the earliest plants 
brought over by the settlers ; it was carefully cher- 
ished in the herb garden, then spread to the door- 
yard and then to farm lanes. As early as 1746 
the traveller Kalm noted Tansy growing wild in 
hedges and along roads in Pennsylvania. Now it 
extends its sturdy growth for miles along the coun- 
try road, one of the rankest of weeds. It still is 
used in the manufacture of proprietary medicines, 
and for this purpose is cut with a sickle in great arm- 
fuls and gathered in cartloads, 1 have always liked 
its scent; and its leaves, as Gerarde said, "infinitely 
jagged and'nicked and curled " ; and its cheerful little 
" bitter buttons" of gold. Some old flowers adapt 
themselves to modern conditions and look up-to- 
date ; but to me the Tansy, wherever found, is as 
openly old-fashioned as a betty-lamp or a foot-stove. 

On July I, 1846, an old grave was opened in 
the ancient "God's Acre" near the halls of Har- 
vard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts. This 
grave was a brick vault covered with irregularly 
shaped flagstones about three inches thick. Over 



The Herb Garden 



129 



it was an ancient slab of peculiar stone, unlike any 
others in the cemetery save those over the graves 



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Tansy. 



of two presidents of the College, Rev. Dr. Chauncy 
and Dr. Oakes. As there were headstones near 
this slab inscribed with the names of the great- 

K 



130 Old Time Gardens 

grandchildren of President Dunster, it was believed 
that this was the grave of a third President, Dr. 
Dunster. He died in the year 1659; but his death 
took place in midwinter; and when this coffin was 
opened, the skeleton was found entirely surrounded 
with common Tansy, in seed, a portion of which 
had been pulled up by the roots, and it was there- 
fore believed by many who thought upon the 
matter that it was the coffin and grave of President 
Mitchell, who died in July, 1668, of "an extream 
fever." The skeleton was found still wrapped in a 
cerecloth, and in the record of the church is a 
memorandum of payment "for a terpauling to wrap 
Mr. Mitchell." The Tansy found in this coffin, 
placed there more than two centuries ago, still re- 
tained its shape and scent. 

This use of Tansy at funerals lingered long in 
country neighborhoods in New England, in some 
vicinities till fifty years ago. To many older per- 
sons the Tansy is therefore so associated with 
grewsome sights and sad scenes, that they turn 
from it wherever seen, and its scent to them is un- 
bearable. One elderly friend writes me: "I never 
see the leaves of Tansy without recalling also the 
pale dead faces I have so often seen encircled by the 
dank, ugly leaves. Often as a child have I been 
sent to gather all the Tansy 1 could find, to be 
carried by my mother to the house of mourning ; 
and I gathered it, loathing to touch it, but not dar- 
ing to refuse, and I loathe it still." 

Tansy not only retains its scent for a long period, 
but the " golden buttons " retain their color ; I have 



The Herb Garden 131 

seen them in New England parlors forming part of 
a winter posy ; this, I suppose, in neighborhoods 
where Tansy was little used at funerals. 

If an herb garden had no other reason for exist- 
ence, let me commend it to the attention of those 
of ample grounds and kindly hearts, for a special 
purpose — as a garden for the blind. Our many 
flower-charities furnish flowers throughout the sum- 
mer to our hospitals, but what sweet-scented flowers 
are there for those debarred from any sight of 
beauty ^ Through the past summer my daughters 
sent several times a week, by the generous carriage 
of the Long Island Express Company, boxes of wild 
flowers to any hospital of their choice. What could 
we send to the blind ? The midsummer flowers of 
field and meadow gratified the sight, but scent was 
lacking. A sprig of Sweet Fern or Bayberry was the 
only resource. Think of the pleasure which could 
be given to the sightless by a posy of sweet-scented 
leaves, by Southernwood, Mint, Balm, or Basil, 
and when memory was thereby awakened in those 
who once had seen, what tender thoughts ! If this 
book could influence the planting of an herb garden 
for the solace of those who cannot see the flowers 
of field and garden, then it will not have been writ- 
ten in vain. 



CHAPTER VI 



IN LILAC TIDE 




" Ere Man is aware 
That the Spring is here 
The Flowers have found it out." 

— Ancient Chinese Saying. 

FLOWER opens, and lo! another 
Year," is the beautiful and sug- 
gestive legend on an old vessel 
found in the Catacombs. Since 
these words were written, how 
many years have begun ! how many flowers have 
opened ! and yet nature has never let us weary 
of spring and spring flowers. My garden knows 
well the time o' the year. It needs no almanac to 
count the months. 

" The untaught Spring is wise 
In Cowslips and Anemonies." 

While I sit shivering, idling, wondering when I 
can " start the garden " — lo, there are Snowdrops 
and spring starting up to greet me. 

Ever in earliest spring are there days when there 
is no green in grass, tree, or shrub ; but when the 
garden lover is conscious that winter is gone and 
spring is waiting. There is in every garden, in every 

132 



In Lilac Tide 



133 



dooryard, as in the field and by the roadside, in 
some indefinable way a look of spring. One hint 
of spring comes even before its flowers — you 
can smell its coming. The snow is gone from 
the garden walks and some of the open beds ; you 
walk warily down the softened path at midday, and 
you smell the earth as it basks in the sun, and a 




Ladies' Delights. 



faint scent comes from some twigs and leaves. Box 
speaks of summer, not of spring; and the fragrance 
from that Cedar tree is equally suggestive of sum- 
mer. But break off that slender branch of Caly- 
canthus — how fresh and welcome its delightful 
spring scent. Carry it into the house with branches 
of F'orsythia, and how quickly one fills its leaf buds 
and the other blossoms. 



134 Ol^ Time Gardens 

For several years the first blossom of the new 
year in our garden was neither the Snowdrop nor 
Crocus, but the Ladies' Delight, that laughing, 
speaking little garden face, which is not really a 
spring flower, it is a stray from summer ; but it is 
such a shrewd, intelligent little creature that it readily 
found out that spring was here ere man or other 
flowers knew it. This dear little primitive of the 
Pansy tribe has become wonderfully scarce save in 
cherished old gardens like those of Salem, where I 
saw this year a space thirty feet long and several feet 
wide, under flowering shrubs and bushes, wholly 
covered with the everyday, homely little blooms of 
Ladies' Delights. They have the party-colored 
petal of the existing strain of English Pansies, dis- 
tinct from the French and German Pansies, and I 
doubt not are the descendants of the cherished 
garden children of the English settlers. Gerarde 
describes this little English Pansy or Heartsease in 
1587 under the name of Viola tricolor : — 

"The flouers in form and figure like the Violet, and for 
the most part of the same Bignesse, of three sundry colours, 
purple, yellow and white or blew, by reason of the beauty 
and braverie of which colours they are very pleasing to the 
eye, for smel they have little or none." 

In Breck's Book of Flowers^ 1851, is the first 
printed reference I find to the flower under the 
name Ladies' Delight. In my childhood I never 
heard it called aught else ; but it has a score of folk 
names, all testifying to an aft'ectionate intimacy : 
Bird's-eye; Garden-gate ; Johnny-jump-up ; None- 




'Vr* 



X 5 



o< 




In Lilac Tide 135 

so-pretty ; Kitty-come ; Kit-run-about; Three-faces 
under-a-hood ; Come-and-cuddle-me ; Pink-of-my 
Joan ; Kiss-me ; Tickle-my-fancy ; Kiss-me-ere-I 
rise ; Jump-up-and-kiss-me. To our little flower 
has also been given this folk name, Meet-her-in-the- 
entry-kiss-her-in-the-buttery, the longest plant name 
in the English language, rivalled only by Miss 
Jekyll's triumph of nomenclature for the Stone- 
crop, namely : Welcome-home-husband-be-he-ever- 
so-drunk. 

These little Ladies' Delights have infinite variety 
or expression; some are laughing and roguish, some 
sharp and shrewd, some surprised, others worried, 
all are animated and vivacious, and a few saucy to 
a degree. They are as companionable as people — 
nay, more; they are as companionable as children. 
No wonder children love them ; they recognize 
kindred spirits. I know a child who picked un- 
bidden a choice Rose, and hid it under her apron. 
But as she passed a bed of Ladies' Delights blow- 
ing in the wind, peering, winking, mocking, she 
suddenly threw the Rose at them, crying out pet- 
tishly, " Here ! take your old flower ! " 

The Dandelion is to many the golden seal of 
spring, but it blooms the whole circle of the year in 
sly garden corners and in the grass. Of it might 
have been written the lines : — 

♦• It smiles upon the lap of May, 

To sultry August spreads its charms, 
Lights pale October on its way. 
And twines December's arms." 



136 



Old Time Gardens 



I have picked both Ladies' Delights and Dandelions 
every month in the vear. 

I suppose the common Crocus would not be 
deemed a very great garden ornament in midsum- 
mer, in its lowly growth ; but in its spring blossom- 




Sun-dial in Garden of Hon. William H. Seward. Auburn. New York. 



ing it is — to use another's words — " most gladsome 
of the early flowers." A bed of Crocuses is certainly 
a keen pleasure, glowing in the sun, almost as grate- 
ful to the human eye as to the honey-gathering bees 
that come unerringly, from somewhere, to hover 
over the golden cups. How welcome atter winter 
is the sound ot that humming. 



In Lilac Tide 137 

In the garden's story, there are ever a few pic- 
tures which stand out with startling distinctness. 
When the year is gone you do not recall many days 
nor many flowers with precision; often a single 
flower seems of more importance than a whole 
garden. In the day book of 1900 I have but few 
pictures; the most vivid was the very first of the 
season. It could have been no later than April, 
for one or two Snowdrops still showed white 
in the grass, when a splendid ribbon of Chiono- 
doxa — Glory of the Snow — opened like blue fire 
burning from plant to plant, the bluest thing 
I ever saw in any garden. It was backed with 
solid masses of equally vivid yellow Alyssum and 
chalk-white Candy-tuft, both of which had had a 
good start under glass in a temporary forcing bed. 
These three solid masses of color surrounded by 
bare earth and showing little green leafage made my 
eyes ache, but a picture was burnt in which will 
never leave my brain. I always have a sense of 
importance, of actual ownership of a plant, when I 
can recall its introduction — as I do of the Chiono- 
doxa, about 1871. It is said to come up and 
bloom in the snow, but I have never seen it in blos- 
som earlier than March, and never then unless the 
snow has vanished. It has much of the charm of 
its relative, the Scilla. 

We all have flower favorites, and some of us have 
flower antipathies, or at least we are indifl^erent to 
certain flowers ; but I never knew any one but loved 
the Daffodil. Not only have poets and dramatists 
sung it, but it is a common favorite, as shown by its 



138 Old Time Gardens 

homely names in our everyday speech. I am always 
touched in Endymion that the only flowers named 
as " a thing of beauty that is a joy forever " are Daf- 
fodils " with the green world they live in." 

In Daffodils I like the "old fat-headed sort with 
nutmeg and cinnamon smell and old common Eng- 
lish names — Butter-and-eggs, Codlins-and-cream, 
Bacon and eggs." The newer ones are more slender 
in bud and bloom, more trumpet-shaped, and are 
commonplace of name instead of common. In Vir- 
ginia the name of a variety has become applied to a 
family, and all Daffodils are called Butter-and-eggs 
by the people. 

On spring mornings the Tulips fairly burn with 
a warmth, which makes them doubly welcome 
after, winter. Emerson — ever able to draw a pic- 
ture in two lines — to show the heart of everything 
in a single sentence — thus paints them : — 

"The gardens fire with a joyful blaze 
Of Tulips in the morning's ravs." 

" Tulipase do carry so stately and delightful a 
form, and do abide so long in their bravery, that 
there is no Lady or Gentleman of any worth that is 
not caught with this delight," — wrote the old her- 
balist Parkinson. Bravery is an ideal expression for 
Tulips. 

It is with something of a shock that we read the 
words of Philip Hamerton in The Sylvan Tear^ that 
nature is not harmonious in the spring, but is only 
in the way of becoming so. He calls it the time of 
crudities, like the adolescence of the mind. He says. 




Lilacs in Midsummer in Garden of Mrs. Abraham Lansing, 
Albany, New York. 



In Lilac Tide 139 

" The green is good for us, and we welcome it with 
uncritical gladness ; but when we think of painting, 
it may be doubted whether any season of the year is 
less propitious to the broad and noble harmonies 
which are the secrets of all grand effects in art." 
And he compares the season to the uncomfortable 
hour in a household when the early risers are walk- 
ing about, not knowing what to do with themselves, 
while others have not yet come down to breakfast. 

I must confess that an undiversified country land- 
scape in spring has upon me the effect asserted by 
Hamerton. I recall one early spring week in the 
Catskills, when I fairly complained, " Everything is 
so green here." I longed for rocks, water, burnt 
fields, bare trees, anything to break that glimmering 
green of new grass and new Birches. But in the 
spring garden there is variety of shape and color ; 
the Peony leaf buds are red, some sprouting leaves 
are pink, and there are vast varieties of brown and 
gray and gold in leaf 

Let me give the procession of spring in the gar- 
den in the words of a lover of old New England 
flowers, Dr. Holmes. It is a vivid word picture of 
the distinctive forms and colors of budding flowers 
and leaves. 

" At first the snowdrop's bells are seen. 
Then close against the sheltering wall 
The tulip's horn of dusky green. 
The peony's dark unfolding ball. 

** The golden-chaliced crocus burns ; 
The long narcissus blades appear ; 



140 Old Time Gardens 

The conc-bcakcd In luiiith returns 
To light her hluc-tlanicd chandelier. 

"The willow's whistling lashes, wrung 
By the wild winds ot gusty March, 
With sallow leallcts lightly strung. 
Arc swa\ing hv the tutted larch. 

'*See the proud tulip's Haunting cup, 

That Hanics in glory tor an hour, — 
Behold it withering, then look up — 
How meek the forest-monarchs Hower ! 

" When wake the violets, Winter dies ; 

When sprout the elm buds, Spring is near ; 
When lilacs blossom, Summer cries, 
' Hud, little roses, Spring is here.' " 

The uiii\'crs;il tiowcr in the oKl time gaixicii was 
tlic Lilac; it was the most hclovcd iiloom ot spring, 
and gave a name to Spring — IJIac tide. The Lilac 
does not promise "spring is coming"; it is the 
emblem of tlic presence ot spring. Dr. LJolmes 
says, " When Lilacs blossom, Summer cries, ' Spring 
is here' " in every cheerful and la\ish bloom. Lilacs 
shade the tVont vard ; Lilacs grow by the kitchen 
tloo'^step; Lilacs spring up beside the barn; Lilacs 
shade the well ; Lilacs hang over the spring house ; 
Lilacs cri.)wd.bv the fence side and down the country 
road, hi many colonial dooryards it was the only 
shrub — known both to lettered and unlettered folk 
as Laylock, and spelt Laylock too. Walter Savage 
Landor, when Laylock had become antiquated, still 
clunti to the word, and used it with a stubborn 
persistence such as he alone could compass, and 



In Lilac Tide 



141 



which seems strange in the most finished classical 
scholar of his day. 

" I shall not go to town while the Lilacs bloom," 
wrote Longfellow; and what Lilac lover could have 



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Lilacs at Craigie House, the Home of Longfellow. 

left a home so Lilac-embowered as Craigie House ! 
A view of its charms in Lilac tide is given in outline 
on this page ; the great Lilac trees seem wondrously 
suited to the fine old Revolutionary mansion. 

There is in Albany, New York, a lovely gar- 
den endeared to those who know it through the 



142 



Old Time Gardens 



memory of a presence that lighted all places associ- 
ated with it with the beauty of a noble life. It is 
the garden of the home of Mrs. Abraham Lansing, 
and was planted by her father and mother, General 




Box-edged Garden at the Home of Longfellow. 



and Mrs. Peter Gansevoort, in 1846, having been 
laid out with taste and an art that has borne the test 
of over half a century's growth. In the garden are 
scores of old-time favorites : Flower de Luce, Peo- 
nies, Daffodils, and snowy Phlox ; but instead of 



In Lilac Tide 143 

bending over the flower borders, let us linger awhile 
in the wonderful old Lilac walk. It is a glory of 
tender green and shaded amethyst and grateful hum 
of bees, the very voice of Spring. Every sense is 
gratified, even that of touch, when the delicate plumes 
of the fragrant Lilac blossoms brush your cheek as 
you walk through its path; there is no spot of fairer 
loveliness than this Lilac walk in May. It is a won- 
derful study of flickering light and grateful shade in 
midsummer. Look at its full-leaf charms opposite 
page 138 ; was there ever anything lovelier in any gar- 
den, at any time, than the green vista of this Lilac walk 
in July ? But for the thoughtful garden-lover it has 
another beauty still, the delicacy and refinement of 
outline when the Lilac walk is bare of foliage, as is 
shown on page 220 and facing page 154. The very 
spirit of the Lilacs seems visible, etched with a purity 
of touch that makes them sentient, speaking beings, 
instead of silent plants. See the outlines of stem and 
branch against the tender sky of this April noon. 
Do you care for color when you have such beauty of 
outline ? Surely this Lilac walk is loveliest in April, 
with a sensitive etherealization beyond compare. 
How wonderfully these pictures have caught the 
look of tentative spring — spring waiting for a single 
day to burst into living green. There is an ancient 
Saxon name for springtime — Opyn-tide — thus 
defined by an old writer, " Whenne that flowres 
think on blowen " — when the flowers begin to 
think of budding and blowing; and so I name this 
picture Opyn-tide, the Thought of Spring. 

For many years Lilacs were planted for hedges ; 



144 Ol^ Time Gardens 

they were seldom satisfactory if clipped, for the broad- 
spreading leaves were always gray with dust, and 
they often had a " rust " which wholly destroyed 
their beauty. The finest clipped Lilac hedge I ever 
saw is at Indian Hill, Newburyport. It was set out 
about 1850, and is compact and green as Privet; 
the leaves are healthy, and the growth perfect down 
to the ground ; it is an unusual example of Lilac 
growth — a perfect hedge. An undipped Lilac 
hedge is lovely in its blooming; a beautiful one 
grows by the side of the old family home of Mr. 
Mortimer Howell at West Hampton Beach, Long 
Island. To this hedge in May come a-begging 
dusky city flower venders, who break off and carry 
away wagon loads of blooms. As the fare from and 
to New York is four dollars, and a wagon has to be 
hired to convey the flowers from the hedge two miles 
to the railroad station, there must be a high price 
charged for these Lilacs to afford any profit; but 
the Italian flower sellers appear year after year. 

Lilacs bloom not in our ancient literature; they 
are not named by Shakespeare, nor do I recall anv 
earlier mention of them than in the essav of Lord 
Bacon on "Gardens," published about 1610, where 
he spelled it Lelacke. Blue-pipe tree was the ancient 
name of the Lilac, a reminder of the time when pipes 
were made of its wood ; I heard it used in modern 
speech once. An old Narragansett coach driver 
called out to me, " Ye set such store on flowers, 
don't ye want to pick that Blue-pipe in Pender 
Zeke's garden ?" — a deserted garden and home at 
Pender Zeke's Corner. This man had some of the 



In Lilac Tide 



H5 



traits of Mrs. Wright's delightful " Time-o'-Day," 
and he knew well my love of flowers ; for he had 
been my charioteer to the woods where Rhododen- 
dron and Rhodora bloom, and he had revealed to 
me the pond where grew the pink Water Lilies. 
And from a chance remark of mine he had conveyed 
to me a wagon load of Joepye-weed and Boneset, 
to the dismay of my younger children, who had 
apprehensions 
of unlimited gal- 
lons of herb tea 
therefrom. Let 
me steal a few 
lines from my 
spring Lilacs to 
write of these 
two " Sisters of 
Healing," which 
were often 
planted in the 
household herb 
garden. From 
July to Septem- 
ber in the low lying meadows of every state from 
the Bay of Fundy to the Gulf of Mexico, can be 
found Joepye-weed and Boneset. The dull pink 
clusters of soft fringy blooms of Joepye-weed stand 
up three to eight feet in height above the moist 
earth, catching our eye and the visit of every pass- 
ing butterfly, and commanding attention for their 
fragrance, and a certain dignity of carriage notable 
even among the more striking hues of the brilliant 




Joepye-weed and Queen Anne's Lace. 



l^b 



Old rime Gardens 



(uildcnicKl and vivid Sunriowers. Joe Pve was an 
Indian medicine- man of old New Kngland, famed 
among his white neighbors tor his skill in curing 
the devastating typhoid fevers which, in those davs 
of no drainage and ignorance of sanitation, vied with 

so-called " he- 
reditary " con- 
s u m p t i o n in 
exterminating 
New b.ngland 
families. His 
cure-all was a bit- 
ter tea decocted 
trom leaves and 
stalks of this 
Eiipatorium pur- 
pureiim, and in 
token ot his suc- 
cess the plant 
b e a r s eve r v - 
where his name, 
but it is now 
wholly neglected 
by the simpler 
and herb-doctor. 
The sister plant, 
the Eupiitorium pcrfoUatum^ known as Thorough- 
wort, Boneset, Ague-weed, or Indian Sage, grows 
everywhere by its side, and is also used in fevers. 
It was as efficacious in "break bone fever" in the 
South a century ago as it is now for the grippe, tor 
it still is used. North and South, in many a country 




Boneset. 



In Lilac Tide 147 

home. Neltje Blanclian and Mrs. Dana Parsons call 
Thoroughwort or Boneset tea a " nauseous draught," 
and 1 thereby suspect that neither has tasted it. 
I have many a time, and it has a clear, clean bitter 
taste, no stronger than any bitter beer or ale. Every 
year is Boneset gathered in old Narragansett; but 
swamp edges and meadows that are easy of access 
have been depleted of the stately growth of saw- 
edged wrinkled leaves, and the Boneset gatherer 
must turn to remote brooksidcs and inaccessible 
meadows for his harvest. The flat-topped terminal 
cymes of leaden white blooms are not distinctive as 
seen from afar, and many flowers of similar appear- 
ance lure the weary simpler here and there, until at 
last the welcome sight of the connate perfoliate 
leaves, surrounding the strong stalk, distinctive of 
the Boneset, show that his search is rewarded. 

After these bitter draughts of herb tea, we will turn, 
as do children, to sweets, to our beloved Lilac blooms. 
The Lilac has ever been a flower welcomed by Eng- 
lish-speaking folk since it first came to England by 
the hand of some mariner. It is said that a German 
traveller named Busbeck brought it from the Orient 
to the continent in the sixteenth century. I know 
not when it journeyed to the new world, but long 
enough ago so that it now grows cheerfully and plen- 
tifully in all our states of temperate clime and indeed 
far south. It even grows wild in some localities, 
though it never looks wild, but plainly shows its 
escape or exile from some garden. It is specially 
beloved in New England, and it seems so much 
more suited in spirit to New England than to 



14B Old Time Gardens 

Persia that it ought really to be a native plant. 
Its very color seems typical of New England ; some 
parts of celestial blue, with more of warm pink, 
blended and softened by that shading of sombre 
gray ever present in New England lite into a dis- 
tinctive color known everywhere as lilac — a color 
grateful, quiet, pleasing, what Thoreau called a 
" tender, civil, cheerful color." Its blossoming at 
the time of Election Day, that all-important New 
England holiday, gave it another New England sig- 
nificance. 

There is no more emblematic flower to me than 
the Lilac ; it has an association of old homes, of 
home-making and home interests. On the country 
farm, in the village garden, and in the city yard, the 
lilac was planted wherever the home was made, and 
it attached itself with deepest roots, lingering some- 
times most sadlv but sturdily, to show where the 
home once stood. 

Let me tell ot two Lilacs of sentiment. One of 
them is shown on page 149 ; a glorious Lilac tree 
which is one of a group of many tull-flowered, pale- 
tinted ones still growing and blossoming each spring 
on a deserted homestead in old Narragansett. 
They bloom over the grave of a fine old house, and 
the great chimney stands sadly in their midst as a 
gravestone. " Hopewell," ill-suited of name, was 
the home of a Narragansett Robinson famed for 
good cheer, for refinement and luxury, and for a 
lovely garden, laid out with cost and care and filled 
with rare shrubs and flowers. Perhaps these Lilacs 
were a rare variety in their day, being pale of tint ; 




Magnolias. 



In Lilac Tide 



149 



now they are as wild as their companions, the Cedar 
hedges. 

Gathering in the front dooryard of a fallen farm- 
house some splendid branches of flowering Lilac, I 
found a few feet of cellar wall and wooden house 
side standing, and the sills of two windows. These 
window sills, exposed for years to the bleaching and 













■^ 


^ 


:.V^^- 


M 


M 


^ 




iMi 




^r^. 


/J^' 


1 ■ , 






?^:' 








<y-\ ■- 


'^i'M.:!*^^ 




ii^^fc* . 


^r 


t- ';, 




'V'. -< 



Lilacs at Hopewell. 

fading of rain and sun and frost, still bore the circu- 
lar marks of the flower pots which, filled with house- 
plants, had graced the kitchen windows for many 
a winter under the care of a flower-loving house 
mistress. A few days later I learned from a woman 
over ninety years of age — an inmate of the " Poor 
House " — the story of the home thus touchingly 
indicated by the Lilac bushes and the stains of the 
flower pots. Over eighty years ago she had brought 



I 50 Old Time Gardens 

the tiny Lilac-slip to her childhood's home, then 
standing in a clearing in the forest. She carried it 
carefully in her hands as she rode behind her father 
on a pillion after a visit to her grandmother. She 
and her little brothers and sisters planted the tiny 
thing " of two eyes only," as she said, in the shadow 
of the house, in the little front yard. And these 
children watered it and watched it, as it rooted and 
grew, till the house was surrounded each spring with 
its vivacious blooms, its sweet fragrance. The puny 
slip has outlived the house and all its inmates save 
herself, outlived the brothers and sisters, their chil- 
dren and grandchildren, outlived orchard and garden 
and field. And it will live to tell a story to every 
thoughtful passer-by till a second growth of forest 
has arisen in pasture and garden and even In the 
cellar-hole, when even then the cheerful Lilac will 
not be wholly obliterated. 

A bunch of early Lilacs was ever a favorite gift to 
"teacher," to be placed in a broken-nosed pitcher 
on her desk. And Lilac petals made such lovely 
necklaces, thrust within each other or strung with 
needle and thread. And there was a love divination 
by Lilacs which we children solemnly observed. 
There will occasionally appear a tiny Lilac flower, 
usually a white Lilac, with five divisions of the petal 
instead of four — this is a Luck Lilac. This must 
be solemnly swallowed. If it goes down smoothly, 
the dabbler in magic cries out, " He loves me;" if 
she chokes at her floral food, she must say sadly, 
" He loves me not." I remember once calling out, 
with gratification and pride, " He loves me ! " 



In Lilac Tide 



151 



" Who is he ? " said my older companions. " Oh, I 
didn't know he had to be somebody," I answered in 
surprise, to be met by derisive laughter at my satis- 
faction with a lover in general and not in particular. 
It was a matter of Lilac-luck-etiquette that the 




Persian Lilacs and Peonies in Garden of the Kimball Homestead, 
Portsmouth, New Hampshire. 

lover's name should be pronounced mentally before 
the petal was swallowed. 

In the West Indies the Lilac is a flower of mys- 
terious power ; its perfume keeps away evil spirits, 
ghosts, banshees. If it grows not in the dooryard, 
its protecting branches are hung over the doorway. 
I think of this when I see it shading the door of 
happy homes in New England. 

In our old front yards we had only the common 



152 Old Time Gardens 

Lilacs, and occasionally a white one; and as a rarity 
the graceful, but sometimes rather spindling, Persian 
Lilacs, known since 1650 in gardens, and shown on 
page 151. How the old gardens would have stared 
at the new double Lilacs, which have luxuriant 
plumes of bloom twenty inches long. 

The "pensile Lilac" has been sung by many poets ; 
but the spirit of the flower has been best portrayed 
in verse by Elizabeth Akers. I can quote but a 
single stanza from so many beautiful ones. 

" How fair it stood, with purple tassels hung, 

Their hue more tender than the tint of Tyre ; 
How musical amid their fragrance rung 

The bee's bassoon, keynote of spring's glad choir ! 

languorous Lilac ! still in time's despite 

1 see thy plumy branches all alight 

With new-born butterflies which loved to stay 
And bask and banquet in the temperate ray 

Of springtime, ere the torrid heats should be : 

For these dear memories, though the world grow gray, 

I sing thy sweetness, lovely Lilac tree ! " 

Another poet of the Lilac is Walt Whitman. 
He tells his delight in "the Lilac tall and its blos- 
soms of mastering odor." He sings : " with the 
birds a warble of joy for Lilac-time." That noble, 
heroic dirge, the Burial Hymn of Lincoln, begins : — 

"When Lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd." 

The poet stood under the blossoming Lilacs when 
he learned of the death of Lincoln, and the scent 
and sight of the flowers ever bore the sad associa- 
tion. In this poem is a vivid description of — 



In Lilac Tide 153 

"The Lilac bush, tall growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich green. 
With many a pointed blossom, rising delicate with the perfume 

strong I love. 
With every leaf a miracle." 

Thomas William Parsons could turn from his 
profound researches and loving translations of Dante 
to write with deep sympathy of the Lilac. His verses 
have to me an additional interest, since I believe 
they were written in the house built by my ancestor 
in 1740, and occupied still by his descendants. In 
its front dooryard are Lilacs still standing under 
the windows of Dr. Parsons' room, in which he 
loved so to write. 

Hawthorne felt a sort of "ludicrous unfitness in 
the idea of a time-stricken and grandfatherly Lilac 
bush." He was dissatisfied with aged Lilacs, though 
he knew not whether his heart, judgment, or rural 
sense put him in that condition. He felt the flower 
should either flourish in immortal youth or die. 
Apple trees could grow old and feeble without 
his reproach, but an aged Lilac was improper. 

I fancy no one ever took any care of Lilacs in 
an old garden. As soon water or enrich the 
Sumach and Elder growing by the roadside ! But 
care for your Lilacs nowadays, and see how they 
respond. Make them a garden flower, and you will 
never regret it. There be those who prefer grafted 
Lilacs — the stock being usually a Syringa; they 
prefer the single trunk, and thus get rid of the Lilac 
suckers. But compare a row of grafted Lilacs to a 
row of natural fastigate growth, as shown on page 
220, and I think nature must be preferred. 



154 Old Time Gardens • 

" Methinks I see my contemplative girl now in 
the garden watching the gradual approach of Spring," 
wrote Sterne. My contemplative girl lives in the 
city, how can she know that spring is here ? Even 
on those few square feet of mother earth, dedicated 
to clotheslines and posts, spring sets her mark. 
Our Lilacs seldom bloom, but they put forth lovely 
fresh green leaves; and even the unrolling of the 
leaves of our Japanese ivies are a pleasure. 

Our poor little strips of back yard in city homes 
are apt to be too densely shaded for flower blooms, 
but some things will grow, even there. Some wild 
flowers will live, and what a delight they are in 
spring. We have a Jack-in-the-pulpit who comes 
up just as jauntily there as in the wild woods ; 
Dog-tooth Violet and our common wild Violet also 
bloom. A city neighbor has Trillium which blos- 
soms each year; our Trillium shows leaves, but no 
blossoms, and does not increase in spread of roots. 
Bloodroot, a flower so shy when gathered in the 
woods, and ever loving damp sites, flourishes in the 
dryest flower bed, grows coarser in leaf and bloom, 
and blossoms earlier, and holds faster its snowy 
petals. Corydalis in the garden seems so garden- 
bred that you almost forget the flower was ever 
wild. 

The approach of spring in our city parks is marked 
by the appearance of the Dandelion gatherers. It 
is always interesting to see, in May, on the closely 
guarded lawns and field expanses of our city parks, 
the hundreds of bareheaded, gayly-dressed Italian 
and Portuguese women and children eagerly gather- 



In Lilac Tide 155 

ing the young Dandelion plants to add to their 
meagre fare as a greatly-loved delicacy. They collect 
these "greens" in highly-colored kerchiefs, in bas- 
kets, in squares of sheeting; I have seen the women 
bearing off a half-bushel of plants ; even their stumpy 
little children are impressed to increase the welcome 
harvest, and with a broken knife dig eagerly in the 
greensward. The thrifty park commissioners, in Dan- 
delion-time, relax their rigid rules, " Keep Off the 
Grass," and turn the salad-loving Italians loose to im- 
prove the public lawns by freeing them from weeds. 

The earliest sign of spring in the fields and 
woods in my childhood was the appearance of the 
Willow catkins, and was heralded by the cry of one 
child to another, — " Pussy-willows are out." How 
eagerly did those who loved the woods and fields 
turn, after the storm, whiteness, and chill of a New 
England winter, to Pussy-willows as a promise of 
summer and sunshine. Some of their charm ever 
lingers to us as we see them in the baskets of swarthy 
street venders in New York. 

Magnolia blossoms are sold in our city streets 
to remind city dwellers of spring. " Every flower 
its own bow-kwet," is the call of the vender. 
Bunches of Locust blossoms follow, awkwardly tied 
together. Though the Magnolia is earlier, I do 
not find it much more splendid as a flowering tree 
for the garden than our northern Dogwood ; and 
the Dogwood when in bloom seems just as tropi- 
cal. It is then the glory of the landscape ; and its 
radiant starry blossoms turn into ideal beauty even 
our sombre cemeteries. 



156 Old Time Gardens 

The Magnolia has been planted in northern 
gardens for over a century. Gardens on Long 
Island have many beautiful old specimens, doubt- 
less furnished by the Prince Nurseries. These 
seem thoroughly at home ; just as does the Locust 
brought from Virginia, a century ago, by one Cap- 
tain Sands of Sands Point, to please his Virginia 
bride with the presence of the trees of her girlhood's 
home. These Locusts have spread over every rood 
of Long Island earth, and seem as much at home as 
Birch or Willow. The three Magnolia trees on 
Mr. Brown's lawn in Flatb.ush are as large as any I 
know in the North, and were exceptionally full 
of bloom this year, this photograph (shown facing 
page 148) being taken when they were past their 
prime. I saw children eagerly gathering the waxy 
petals which had fallen, and which show so plainly 
in the picture. But the flower is not common 
enough here for northern children to learn the varied 
attractions of the Magnolia, 

The flower lore of American children is nearly 
all of English derivation ; but children invent as 
well as copy. In the South the lavish growth of 
the Magnolia affords multiform playthings. The 
beautiful broad white petals give a snowy surface 
for the inditing of messages or valentines, which 
are written with a pin, when the letters turn dark 
brown. The stamens of the flower — waxlike with 
red tips — make mock illuminating matches. The 
leaves shape into wonderful drinking cups, and the 
scarlet seeds give a glowing necklace. 

The glories of a spring garden are not in the 



In Lilac Tide 



157 



rows of flowering bulbs, beautiful as they are ; but 
in the flowering shrubs and trees. The old gar- 
den had few shrubs, but it had unsurpassed beauty 
in its rows of fruit trees which in their blossoming 
give the spring garden, as here shown, that lovely 




A Thought of Winter's Snows. 



whiteness which seems a blendino; of the seasons 
— a thought of winter's snows. The perfection 
of Apple blossoms I have told in another chapter. 
Earlier to appear was the pure white, rather chilly, 
blooms of the Plum tree, to the Japanese " the 
eldest brother of an hundred flowers." They are 



158 Old Time Gardens 

faintly sweet-scented with the delicacy found in 
many spring blossoms. A good example of the 
short verses of the Japanese poets tells of the Plum 
blossom and its perfume. 

<'In springtime, on a cloudless night. 

When moonbeams throw their silver pall 
O'er wooded landscapes, veiling all 

In one soft cloud of misty white, 

'Twere vain almost to hope to trace 
The Plum trees in their lovely bloom 
Of argent ; 'tis their sweet perfume 

Alone which leads me to their place." 

The lovely family of double white Plum blos- 
soms which now graces our gardens is varied by 
tinted ones ; there are sixty in all which the nine- 
teenth century owes to Japan. 

The Peach tree has a flower which has given name 
to one of the loveliest colors in the world. The 
Peach has varieties with wonderful double flowers 
of glorious color. Cherry trees bear a more cheer- 
ful white flower than Plum trees. 

** The Cherry boughs above us spread 
The whitest shade was ever seen ; 
And flicker, flicker came and fled 
Sun-spots between." 

I do not recall the Judas tree in my childhood. 
I am told there were many in Worcester ; but there 
were none in our garden, nor in our neighborhood, 
and that was my world. Orchids might have hung 
from the trees a mile from my home, and would 



In Lilac Tide 



159 



have been no nearer me than the tropics. I had a 
small world, but it was large enough, since it was 
bounded by garden walls. 

Almond trees are seldom seen in northern gar- 
dens ; but the Flowering Almond flourishes as one 
of the purest and loveliest familiar shrubs. Silvery 
pink in bloom when it opens, the pink darkens till 
when in full flower It is deeply rosy. It was, next 
to the Lilac, the favorite shrub of my childhood. 
I used to call the exquisite little blooms " fairy 
roses," and there were many fairy tales relating to 
the Almond bush. This made the flower enhaloed 
with sentiment and mystery, which charmed as much 
as its beauty. The Flowering Almond seemed to 
have a special place under a window in country 
yards and gardens, as it is shown on page 39. A 
fitting spot it was, since it never grew tall enough to 
shade the little window panes. 

With Pussy-willows and Almond blossoms and 
Ladies' Delights, with blossoming playhouse Apple 
trees and sweet-scented Lilac walks, spring was cer- 
tainly Paradise in our childhood. Would it were an 
equally happy season in mature years; but who, 
garden-bred, can walk in the springtime through the 
garden of her childhood without thought of those 
who cared for the garden in its youth, and shared 
the care of their children with the care of their 
flowers, but now are seen no more. 

*' Oh, far away in some serener air. 
The eyes that loved them see a heavenly dawn : 
How can they bloom without her tender care ? 
Why should they live when her sweet life is gone ? " 



i6o Old Time Gardens 

I have written of the gladness of spring, but I know 
nothing more overwhelming than the heartache of 
spring, the sadness of a fresh-growing spring garden. 
Where is the dear one who planted it and loved it, 
and he who helped her in the care, and the loving 
child who plaved in it and left it in the springtime ? 
All that is good and beautiful has come again to us 
with the sunlight and warmth, save those whom we 
still love but can see no more. By that very meas- 
ure of happiness poured tor us in childhood in Lilac 
tide, is our cup of sadness now filled. 



CHAPTER VII 

OLD FLOWER FAVORITES 

*• God does not send us strange flowers every year. 
When the spring winds blow o'er the pleasant places 
The same dear things lift up the same fair faces ; 
The Violet is here. 

" It all comes back ; the odor, grace, and hue 
Each sweet relation of its life repeated ; 
No blank is left, no looking-for is cheated ; 
It is the thing we knew." 

— Adeline D. T. Whitney, 1861 




OT only do I love to see the 
same dear things year after 



year, and to welcome the same 
odor, grace, and hue ; but I 
love to find them in the same 
places. 1 like a garden in 
which plants have been grow- 
ing in one spot for a long time, 
where they have a fixed home and surroundings. 
In our garden the same flowers shoulder each other 
comfortably and crowd each other a little, year after 
year. They look, my sister says, like long-estab- 
lished neighbors, like old family friends, not as if they 
had just " moved in," and didn't know each other's 
names and faces. Plants grow better when they are 

M 161 



l62 



Old Time Gardens 



among flower friends. I suppose we have to trans- 
plant some plants, sometimes ; but I would try to 
keep old friends together even in those removals. 
They would be lonely when they opened their eyes 
after the winter's sleep, and saw strange flower forms 
and unknown faces around them. 




Larkspur and Phlox. 

For flowers have friendships, and antipathies as 
well. How Canterbury Bells and Foxgloves love 
to grow side by side ! And Sweet Witliams, with 
Foxgloves, as here shown. And in my sister's gar- 
den Larkspur always starts up by white Phlox — see 
a bit of the border on this page. Whatever may 
influence these docile alliances, it isn't a proper 
sense of fitness of color ; for Tiger Lilies dearly 



Old Flower Favorites 



163 



love to grow by crimson-purple Phlox, a most 
inharmonious association, and you can hardly 
separate them. If a flower dislikes her neighbor 
in the garden, she moves quietly away, I don't know 
where or how. Sometimes she dies, but at any rate 
she is gone. It is so queer; I have tried every year 
to make Feverfew grow in this bed, and it won't do 
it, though it grows across the path. There is some 
flower here 
that the pom- 
pous Feverfew 
doesn't care to 
associate with. 
Not the Lark- 
spur, for they 
are famous 
friends — per- 
haps it is the 
Sweet William, 
who is rather 
a plain fellow. 
In general 
flowers are very 
sociable with 
each other, but 




Sweet William and Foxglove. 

they have some preferences, and these are powerful 



ones. 



It is amusing to read in no less than five recent 
F'.nglish " garden-books," by flower-loving souls, 
the solemn advice that if you wish a beautiful gar- 
den efi^ect you " must plant the great Oriental Poppy 
by the side of the White Lupine." 



164 



Old rime Gardens 



Thou sav'st an uiulispiitcd tiling 
In such a solemn wav." 



The truth is, vou have very little to do with it. 

That Poppv chooses to keep company with the 

White Lupine, 
and to that im- 
pidse vou owe 
vour fine gar- 
den ert^ect. rhe 
Poppy is the 
slvest magician 
of the whole 
garden. H e 
comes and goes 
at will. Fhis 
\- e a r a tew 
blooms, nearly 
all in one cor- 
tier ; next year 
a blaze of color 
banded across 
the middle of 
the garden like 
the broad sash 
ofa court cham- 
berlain. Then 
a single grand 

blossom quite alone in the pansy bed, while another 

pushes up between the tight close leaves of the box 

edging: — the Poppy is queer. 

Some flowers have such a hatred of man they can- 




h'lume Poppy. 



Old Flower Favorites 165 

not breathe and live in his presence, others have an 
equal love of human companionship. The white 
clover clings here to our pathway as does the Eng- 
lish Daisy across seas. And in our garden Ladies' 
Delights and Ambrosia tell us, without words, of 
their love for us and longing to be by our side ; 
just as plainly as a child silently tells us his love 
and dependence on us by taking our hand as we 
walk side by side. There is not another gesture 
of childhood, not an affectionate word which ever 
touched my heart as did that trustful holding 
of the hand. One of my children throughout his 
brief life never walked by my side without clinging 
closely — I think without conscious intent — with 
his little hand to mine. 1 can never forget the affec- 
tion, the trust of that vanished hand. 

I find that my dearest flower loves are the old 
flowers, — not only old to me because I knew them 
in childhood, but old in cultivation. 

" Give me the good old weekday blossoms 
I used to see so long ago. 
With hearty sweetness in their bosoms. 
Ready and glad to bud and blow." 

Even were they newcomers, we should speedily 
care for them, they are so lovable, so winning, so 
endearing. If I had seen to-day for the first time a 
Fritillaria, a Violet, a Lilac, a Bluebell, or a Rose, I 
know it would be a case of love at first sight. But 
with intimacy they have grown dearer still. 

The sense of long-continued acquaintance and 
friendship which we feel for many garden flowers 



1 66 Old Time Gardens 

extends to a few blossoms of field and forest. It is 
felt to an inexplicable degree by all New Englanders 
for the IVailing Arbutus, our Mayflower; and it is 
this unformulated sentiment which makes us like to 
go to the same spot year after year to gather these 
beloved flowers. I am sensible of this friendship 
for Buttercups, they seem the same flowers I knew 
last year ; and I have a distinct sympathy with Owen 
Meredith's poem : — 

•' I pluck the flowers I plucked of old 
About my feet — yet fresh and cold 
The Buttercups do bend ; 
The selfsame Buttercups they seem, 
Thick in the bright-eved green, and such 
As when to me their blissful gleam 
Was all earth's gold — how much ! " 

We have little of the intense sentiment, the inspi- 
ration which filled flower-lovers of olden times. We 
admire flowers certainly as beautiful works of nature, 
as objects of wonder in mechanism and in the profu- 
sion of growth, and we are occasionally roused to 
feelings of gratitude to the Maker and Giver of 
such beauty ; but it is not precisely the same regard 
that the old gardeners and " flowerists " had, which 
is expressed in this quotation from Gerarde of "the 
gallant grace of violets " : — 

"They admonish and stir up a man to that which is 
comelie and honest ; for flowers through their beautie, 
varietie of colour and exquisite forme doe bring to a liberall 
and gentlemanly mind, the remembrance of honcstie, come- 
linesse and all kinds of virtues." 



Old Flower Favorites 



167 



It was a virtue to be comely in those days ; as 
it is indeed a virtue now ; and to the pious old 
herbalists it seemed an impossible thing that any cre- 
ation which was beautiful should not also be good. 

All flowers 
cannot be loved 
with equal 
warmth ; it is 
possible to have 
a wholesome lik- 
ing for a flower, 
a wish to see it 
around you, 
which would 
make you plant 
it in your bor- 
ders and treat it 
well, but which 
would not be 
at all akin to 
love. For others 
you havea placid 
tolerance; others 
you esteem — 
good, virtuous, 
worthy crea- 
tures, but you 
cannot warm 
toward them. 

Sometimes they have been sung with passion 
by poets (Swinburne is always glowing over very 
unresponsive flower souls) and they have been 



W*4»?- 












^^> ^ _ 




^^M^^ 


i 












2-* 


„-« ^^...i^^ 


*^ 


^7<#^-*^5®iif'*^:^-'-\.'" . ■ 




> 






."«• / : M 




- ■. "■■'.: -' . :•• >iiv 


^Wi^' 



Meadow Rue. 



1 68 Old Time Gardens 

painted with fervor by artists — and still you do 
not love them. I do not love Tulips, but I wel- 
come them very cordially in my garden. Others 
have loved them ; the Tulip has had her head 
turned by attention. 

Some flowers we like at first sight, but they do 
not wear well. This is a hard truth ; and I shall 
not shame the garden-creatures who have done their 
best to please by betraying them to the world, save 
in a single case to furnish an example. In late 
August the Bergamot blossoms in luxuriant heads 
of white and purplish pink bloom, similar in tint 
to the abundant Phlox. Both grow freely in the 
garden of Sylvester Manor. When the Bergamot 
has romped in your borders for two or three years, 
you may wish to exile it to a vegetable garden, 
near the blackberry vines. Is this because it is an 
herb instead of a purely decorative flower ? You 
never thus thrust out Phlox. A friend confesses to 
me that she exiled even the splendid scarlet Berga- 
mot after she had grown it for three years in her 
flower-beds ; such subtle influences control our 
flower-loves. 

Beautiful and noble as are the grand contributions 
of the nineteenth century to us from the garden and 
fields of Japan and China, we seldom speak of loving 
them. Thus the Chinese White Wistaria is similar 
in shape of blossom to the Scotch Laburnum, though 
a far more elegant, more lavish flower ; but the 
Laburnum is the loved one. I used to read long- 
ingly of the Laburnum in volumes of English 
poetry, especially in Hood's verses, beginning: — 



Old Flower Favorites 169 

*< I remember, I remember. 
The house where I was born," 



Ella Partridge had a tall Laburnum tree at her front 
door ; it peeped in the second-story windows. It was 
so cherished, that I doubt whether its blooms were 
ever gathered. She told us with conscious pride 
and rectitude that it was a " yellow Wistaria tree 
which came from China " ; I saw no reason to doubt 
her words, and as I never chanced to speak to my 
parents about it, I ever thought of it as a yellow 
Wistaria tree until I went out into the world and 
found it was a Scotch Laburnum. 

Few garden owners plant now the Snowberry, 
Symphoricarpus racemosus^ once seen in every front 
yard, and even used for hedges. It wasn't a very 
satisfactory shrub in its habit ; the oval leaves were 
not a cheerful green, and were usually pallid with 
mildew. The flowers were insignificant, but the 
clusters of berries were as pure as pearls. In country 
homes, before the days of cheap winter flowers and 
omnipresent greenhouses, these snowy clusters were 
cherished to gather in winter to place on coflnns and 
in hands as white and cold as the berries. Its special 
ofl^ence in our garden was partly on account of this 
funereal association, but chiefly because we were never 
permitted to gather its berries to string into necklaces. 
They were rigidly preserved on the stem as a garden 
decoration in winter ; though they were too closely 
akin in color to the encircling snowdrifts to be of 
any value. 

In country homes in olden times were found sev- 



lyo Old Time Gardens 

eral universal winter posies. On the narrow mantel 
shelves of farm and village parlors, both in England 
and America, still is seen a winter posy made of dried 
stalks of the seed valves of a certain flower; they 
are shown on the opposite page. Let us see how 
our old friend, Gerarde, describes this plant : — 

" The stallces are loden with many flowers like the 
stocke-gilliflower, of a purple colour, which, being fallen, 
the seede cometh foorthe conteined in a flat thinne cod, 
with a sharp point or pricke at one end, in fashion of the 
moone, and somewhat blackish. This cod is composed of 
three fllmes or skins whereof the two outermost are of an 
overworne ashe colour, and the innermost, or that in the 
middle whereon the seed doth hang or cleave, is thin and 
cleere shining, like a piece ot white satten newly cut from 
the peece," 

In the latter clause of this striking description is 
given the reason for the popular name of the flower, 
Satin-flower or White Satin, for the inner septum is a 
shining membrane resembling white satin. Another 
interesting name is Pricksong-flower. All who have 
seen sheets of music of Elizabethan days, when the 
notes of music were called pricks, and the whole 
sheet a pricksong, will readily trace the resemblance 
to the seeds of this plant. 

Gerarde says it was named " Penny-floure, Money- 
floure. Silver-plate, Sattin, and among our women 
called Honestie." The last name was commonly 
applied at the close of the eighteenth century. It is 
thus named in writings of Rev. William Hanbury, 
1 77 1, and a Boston seedsman then advertised seeds 



Old Flower Favorites 



171 



of Honestie "in small quantities, that all might 
have some." In 1665, Josselyn found White Satin 
planted and growing plentifully in New England 
gardens, where I am sure it formed, in garden and 
house, a happy 
reminder of 
their English 
homes to the 
wives of the col- 
onists. Since 
that time it has 
spread so freely 
in some locali- 
ties, especially 
in southern 
Connecticut, 
that it grows 
wild by the 
wayside. It is 
seldom seen 
now in well- 
kept gardens, 
though it 
should be, for 
it is really a 
lovely flower, 

showing from white to varied and rich light purples. 
I was charmed with its fresh beauty this spring in 
the garden of Mrs. Mabel Osgood Wright ; a pho- 
tograph of one of her borders containing Honesty 
is shown opposite page 174. 

At Belvoir Castle in England, in the " Duchess's 




Money-in-both-pockets. 



lyi Old Time Gardens 

Garden," the Satin-flower can be seen in full variety 
of tint, and fills an important place. It is care- 
fully cultivated by seed and division, all inferior 
plants being promptly destroyed, while the superior 
blossoms are cherished. 

The flower was much used in charms and spells, 
as was everything connected with the moon. Dray- 
ton's Clarinax sings of Lunaria : — 

" Enchanting lunarie here lies 
In sorceries excelling." 

As a child this Lunaria was a favorite flower, for 
it afforded to us juvenile money. Indeed, it was 
generally known among us as Money-flower or 
Money-seed, or sometimes as Money-in-both-pock- 
ets. The seed valves formed our medium ot ex- 
change and trade, passing as silver dollars. 

Through the streets of a New England village 
there strolled, harmless and happy, one who was 
known in village parlance as a " softy," one of 
" God's fools," a poor addle-pated, simple-minded 
creature, witless — but neither homeless nor friend- 
less ; for children cared for him, and feeble-minded 
though he was, he managed to earn, by rush-seating 
chairs and weaving coarse baskets, and gathering 
berries, scant pennies enough to keep him alive ; 
and he slept in a deserted barn, in a field full of 
rocks and Daisies and Blueberry bushes, — a barn 
which had been built by one but little more gifted 
with wits than himself Poor Elmer never was able 
to understand that the money which he and the 
children saved so carefully each autumn from the 



Old Flower Favorites 



173 



money plants was not equal in value to the great 
copper cents of the village store ; and when he 
asked gleefully for a loaf of bread or a quart of 




Box Walk in Garden of Frederick J. Kingsbury, Esq. 
Waterbury, Connecticut. 



molasses, was just as apt to offer the shining seed 
valves in payment as he was to give the coin of 
the land ; and it must be added that his belief re- 
ceived apparent confirmation in the fact that he usu- 
ally got the bread whether he gave seeds or cents. 



174 C)ld Time Gardens 

He lost his life through his poor simple notion. 
In the village he was kindly treated by all, clothed, 
fed, and warmed ; but one day there came skulking 
along the edge of the village what were then rare 
visitors, two tramps, who by ill-chance met poor 
Elmer as he was gathering chestnuts. And as the 
children lingered on their way home from school to 
take toll of Elmer's store of nuts, they heard him 
boasting gleefully of his wealth, *' hundreds and 
hundreds of dollars all safe for winter." The chil- 
dren knew what his dollars were, but the tramps 
did not. Three days of heavy rain passed by, and 
Elmer did not appear at the store or any house. 
Then kindly neighbors went to his barn in the dis- 
tant field, and found him cruelly beaten, with broken 
ribs and in a high fever, while scattered around him 
were hundreds of the seeds of his autumnal store of 
the money plant; these were all the silver dollars 
his assailants found. He was carried to the alms- 
house and died in a few weeks, partly from the beat- 
ing, partlv from exposure, but chiefly, I ever believed, 
from homesickness in his enforced home. His old 
house has fallen down, but his well still is open, and 
around it grows a vast expanse of Lunaria, which 
has spread and grown from the seeds poor Elmer 
saved, and every year shoots of the tender lilac 
blooms mingle so charmingly with the white Daisies 
that the sterile field is one of the show-places of the 
village, and people drive from afar to see it. 

There grow in profusion in our home garden what 
I always called the Mullein Pink, the Rose Campion 
{Lychnis coronarid). I never heard any one speak 



Old h' lower I^'avoritcs 175 

of this phmt with special affection or admiration ; 
but as a child I loved its crimson flower more than 
any other flower in the garden. Perhaps 1 should 
say 1 loved the royal color rather than the flower. 
I gathered tight bunches without foliage into a 
glowing mass of color unequalled in richness of 
tint by anything in nature. 1 have seen only in a 
stained glass window flooded with high sunlight a 
crimson approaching that of the Mullein Pink. 
Gerarde calls the flower the " (hardener's Delight or 
Gardner's Kie." It was known in French as the 
Eye of God ; and the Rose of Heaven. We used 
to rub our cheeks with the woolly leaves to give a 
beautiful rosy blush, and thereby I once skinned 
one cheek. 

Snapdragons were a beloved flower — companions 
of my childhood in our home garden, but they 
have been neglected a bit by nearly every one of 
late years. Plant a clump of the clear yellow and 
one of pure white Snapdragons, and see how beauti- 
ful they are in the garden, and how fresh they keep 
when cut. We had such a satisfying bunch of 
them on the dinner table to-day, in a milk-white 
glazed Chinese jar ; yellow Snapdragons, with "bor- 
rowed leaves" of Virgin's-bower {Adlumia) and a 
haze of Gypsophila over all. 

A flower much admired in gardens during the early 
years of the nineteenth century was the Plume 
Poppy {Bocconia). It has a pretty pinkish bloom 
in general shape somewhat like Meadow Rue (see 
page 164 and page 167). A friend fancied a light 
feathery look over certain of her garden borders. 



176 Old Time Gardens 

and she planted plentifully Plume Poppy and 
Meadow Rue; this was in 1895. In 1896 the effect 
was exquisite; in 1897 the garden feathered out 
with far too much fulness; in 1901 all the com- 
bined forces of all the weeds of the garden could 
not equal these two flowers in utter usurpment and 
close occupation of every inch of that garden. 
The Plume Poppy has a strong tap-root which 
would be a good symbol of the root of the tree 
Ygdrassyl — the Tree of Life, that never dies. 
You can go over the borders with scythe and spade 
and hoe, and even with manicure-scissors, but roots 
of the Plume Poppy will still hide and send up 
vigorous growth the succeeding year. 

We have grown so familiar with some old doubled 
blossoms that we think little of their being double. 
One such, symmetrical of growth, beautiful of foliage, 
and gratifying of bloom, is the Double Buttercup. 
It is to me distinctly one of our most old-fashioned 
flowers in aspect. A hardy great clump of many 
years' growth is one of the ancient treasures of our 
garden ; its golden globes are known in England as 
Bachelor's Buttons, and are believed by many to be 
the Bachelor's Buttons of Shakespeare's day. 

Dahlias afford a striking example of the beauty of 
single flowers when compared to their doubled de- 
scendants. Single Dahlias are fine flowers, the yellow 
and scarlet ones especially so. I never thought 
double Dahlias really worth the trouble spent on 
them in our Northern gardens ; so much staking 
and tying, and fussing, and usually an autumn storm 
wrenches them round and breaks the stem or a frost 



Old Flower Favorites 



77 



nips them just as they are in bloom. A Dahlia 
hedge or a walk such as this one at Ravens- 




Dahlia Walk at Ravensworth. 



worth, Virginia, is most stately and satisfying. I 
like, in moderation, many of the smaller single and 



lyS Old Time Gardens 

double Sunflowers. Under the reign of Patience^ 
the Sunflower had a fleeting day of popularity, and 
flaunted in garden and parlor. Its place was fdse. 
It was never a garden flower in olden times, in the 
sense of being a flower of ornament or beauty ; its 
place was in the kitchen garden, where it belongs. 

Peas have ever been favorites in English gardens 
since they were brought to England. We have all 
seen the print, if not the portrait, of Queen Elizabeth 
garbed in a white satin robe magnificently embroi- 
dered with open pea-pods and butterflies. A " City 
of London Madam " had a delightful head ornament 
of open pea-pods filled with peas of pearls ; this was 
worn over a hood of gold-embroidered muslin, and 
with dyed red hair, must have been a most modish 
afi^air. Sweet Peas have had a unique history. They 
have been for a century a much-loved flower of the 
people both in England and America, and they were 
at home in cottage borders and fine gardens ; were 
placed in vases, and carried in nosegays and posies; 
were loved of poets — Keats wrote an exquisite 
characterization of them. They had beauty of color, 
and a universally loved perfume — but florists have 
been blind to them till within a few years. A bicen- 
tenary exhibition of Sweet Peas was given in Lon- 
don in July, 1900; now there is formed a Sweet 
Pea Society. But no societies and no exhibitions 
ever will make them a "florist's flower"; they are 
of value only for cutting ; their habit of growth 
renders them useless as a garden decoration. 

We all take notions in regard to flowers, just as 
we do in regard to people. I hear one friend say, 



Old Flower Favorites 179 

" I love every flower that grows," but I answer with 
emphasis, " I don't ! " 1 have ever disliked the 
Portulaca, — I hate its stems. It is my fate never 
to escape it. I planted it once to grow under Sweet 
Alyssum in the little enclosure of earth behind my 
city home; when I returned in the autumn, every- 
thing was covered, blanketed, overwhelmed with 
Portulaca. Since then it comes up even in the 
grass, and seems to thrive by being trampled upon. 
The Portulaca was not a flower of colonial days ; I 
am glad to learn our great-grandmothers were not 
pestered with it ; it was not described in the Botani- 
cal Magazine t\\\ 1829. 

I do not care for the Petunia close at hand on 
account of its sickish odor. But in the dusky border 
the flowers shine like white stars (page i 80), and make 
you almost forgive their poor colors in the daylight. 
I never liked the Calceolaria. Every child in our 
town used to have a Calceolaria in her own small gar- 
den plot, but I never wanted one. I care little for 
Chrysanthemums; they fill in the border in autumn, 
and they look pretty well growing, but 1 like few of 
the flowers close at hand. By some curious twist of 
a brain which, alas ! is apt not to deal as it is ex- 
pected and ought to, with sensations furnished to it, I 
have felt this distaste for Chrysanthemums since 
I attended a Chrysanthemum Show. Of course, I 
ought to love them far more, and have more eager 
interest in them — but I do not. Their sister, the 
China Aster, I care little for. The Germans call 
Asters " death-flowers." The Empress of Austria 
at the Swiss hotel where she lodged just before she 



ibo 



Old Time Gardens 



was murdered, found the rooms decorated with China 
Asters. She said to her attendant that the flowers 
were in Austria termed death-flowers — and so they 
proved. The Aster is among the flowers prohibited 
in Japan for felicitous occasions, as are the Balsam, 

Rhododendron, 
and Azalea. 

Those who 
read these pages 
may note per- 
haps that I say 
little of Lilies. 
I do not care as 
much for them 
as most garden 
lovers do. I 
like all our wild 
Lilies, especially 
the yellow Nod- 
ding Lily of our 
fields ; and the 
Lemon Lily of 
our gardens is 
ever a delight; 
but the stately 
Lilies which are 
such general favorites. Madonna Lilies, Japan Lilies, 
the Gold -banded Lilies, are not especially dear to me. 
I love climbing vines, whether of delicate leaf or 
beautiful flower. In a room I place all the decora- 
tion that I can on the walls, out of the way, leaving 
thus space to move around without fear of displace- 




Petunias. 



Old Flower Favorites 1 8 i 

ment or injury of fragile things; so in a limited gar- 
den space, grass room under our feet, with flowering 
vines on the surrounding walls are better than many 
crowded flower borders. A tiny space can quickly 
be made delightful with climbing plants. The com- 
mon Morning-glory, called in England the Bell-bind, 
is frequently advertised by florists of more encourage- 
ment than judgment, as suitable to plant freely in 
order to cover fences and poor sandy patches of 
ground with speedy and abundant leafage and bloom. 
There is no doubt that the Morning-glory will do 
all this and far more than is promised. It will also 
spread above and below ground from the poor strip 
of earth to every other corner of garden and farm. 
This it has done till, in our Eastern states, it is now 
classed as a wild flower. It will never look wild, 
however, meet it where you will. It is as domestic 
and tame as a barnyard fowl, which, wandering in 
the wildest woodland, could never be mistaken as 
game. The garden at Claymont, the Virginia home 
of Mr. Frank R. Stockton, afforded a striking ex- 
ample of the spreading and strangling properties of 
the Morning-glory, not under encouragement, but 
simply under toleration. Mr. Stockton tells me that 
the entire expanse of his yards and garden, when he 
first saw them, was a solid mass of Morning-glory 
blooms. Every stick, every stem, every stalk, every 
shrub and blade ot grass, every vegetable growth, 
whether dead or alive, had its encircling and over- 
whelming Morning-glory companion, set full of 
tiny undersized blossoms of varied tints. It was a 
beautiful sight at break of day, — a vast expanse 



1 82 Old Time Gardens 

of acres jewelled with Morning-glories — but it 
wasn't the new owner's notion of a Hower garden. 

In my childhood flower agents used to canvass 
country towns from house to house. Sometimes 
they had a general catalogue, and sold many plants, 
trees, and shrubs. Oftener they had but a single 
plant which they were " booming." I suspect that 
their trade came through the sudden introduction 
of so many and varied flowers and shrubs from 
China and Japan, I am told that the first Chinese 
Wistarias and a certain Fringe tree were sold in this 
manner; and I know the white Hydrangea was, for 
I recall it, though I cio not know that this was its 
first sale. I remember too that suddenly half the 
houses in town, on piazza or trellis, had the rich 
purple blooms of the Clematis Jackmanni; for a very 
persuasive agent had gone through the town the 
previous year. Of course people of means bought 
then, as now, at nurseries ; but at many humble 
homes, whose owners would never have thought of 
buying from a greenhouse, he sold his plants. It 
gave an agreeable rivalry, when all started plants 
together, to see whose flourished best and had 
the amplest bloom. Thoreau recalled the pleasant 
emulation of many owners in Concord of a certain 
Rhododendron, sold thus sweepingly by an agent. 
The purple Clematis displaced an old climbing 
favorite, the Trumpet Honeysuckle, once seen by 
every door. It was so beloved of humming-birds 
and so beautiful, I wonder we could ever destroy it. 
Its downfall was hastened by its being infested 
by a myriad of tiny green aphides, which proceeded 



Old Flower Favorites 183 

from it to our Roses. I recall well these little plant 
insects, for I was very fond of picking the tubes of 
the Honeysuckle for the drop of pure honey within, 
and I had to abandon reluctantly the sweet morsels. 

We have in our garden, and it is shown on the 
succeeding page, a vine which we carefully cherished 
in seedlings from vear to year, and took much pride 
in. It came to us with the Ambrosia from the 
Walpole garden. It was not common in gardens 
in our neighborhood, and I always looked upon it 
as something very choice, and even rare, as it cer- 
tainly was something very dainty and pretty. We 
called it Virgin's-bower. When I went out into 
the world I found that it was not rare, that it grew 
wild from Connecticut to the far West; that it was 
Climbing Fumitory, or Mountain Fringe, Adlumia. 
When Mrs. Margaret Deland asked if we had 
Alleghany Vine in our garden, I told her I had 
never seen it, when all the while it was our own 
dear Virgin's-bower. It doesn't seem hardy enough 
to be a wild thing ; how could it make its way against 
the fierce vines and thorns of the forest when it 
hasn't a bit of woodiness in its stems and its leaves 
and flowers are so tender! I cannot think any gar- 
den perfect without it, no matter what else is there, 
for its delicate green Rue-like leaves lie so gracefully 
on stone or brick walls, or on fences, and it trails its 
slender tendrils so lightly over dull shrubs that are 
out of flower, beautifving them afresh with an alien 
bloom of delicate little pinkish blossoms like tiny 
Bleeding-hearts. 

Another old favorite was the Balloon-vine, some- 



1 84 



Old Time Gardens 




times called 
Heart-pea, with 
black hearts, 
which made T" 5^^,^ 
stead of flat. *" "^ 
compound leaves, and 
like our Virgin's-bower, i' 
what it covered ; but the 
had a leafage too heavy 
thick screen or arch quick- 
did well enough in gardens 




Heartseed or 

its seeds like fat 

f^'^ with three lobes 

^:' them globose in- 

^^ This, too, had pretty 

the whole vine, 

lay lightly on 

Dutchman's-pipe 

save to make a 

"^ ly and solidly. It 

which had not had a long 



i^ 



Old Flower Favorites 185 

cultivated past, or made little preparation for a cher- 
ished future ; but it certainly was not suited to our 
garden, where things were not planted for a day. 
These three are native vines of rich woods in our 
Central and Western states. The Matrimony-vine 
was an old favorite ; one from the porch of the Van 
Cortlandt manor-house, over a hundred years old, 
is shown on the next page. Often you see a strag- 
gling, sprawling growth ; but this one is as fine as 
any vine could be. 

Patient folk — as were certainly those of the old- 
time gardens, tried to keep the Rose Acacia as a 
favorite. It was hardy enough, but so hopelessly 
brittle in wood that it was constantly broken by the 
wind and snow of our Northern winters, even though 
it was sheltered under some stronger shrub. At the 
end of a lovely Salem garden, I beheld this June a 
long row of Rose Acacias in full bloom. I am glad 
I possess in my memory the exquisite harmony of 
their shimmering green foliage and rosy flower clus- 
ters. Miss Jekyll, ever resourceful, trains the Rose 
Acacia on a wall ; and fastens it down by plant- 
ing sturdy Crimson Ramblers by its side; her 
skilful example may well be followed in America and 
thus restore to our gardens this beautiful flower. 

One flower, termed old-fashioned by nearly every 
one, is really a recent settler of our gardens. A pop- 
ular historical novel of American life at the time of 
the Revolution makes the hero and heroine play a 
very pretty love scene over a spray of the Bleeding- 
heart, the Dielytra, or Dicentra. Unfortunately for 
the truth of the novelist's picture, the Dielytra was 



i86 



Old Time Gardens 



not introduced to the gardens of English-speaking 
folk till 1846, when the London Horticultural Soci- 
ety received a single plant from the north of China. 




Matrimony-vine at Van Cortlandt Manor. 

How quickly it became cheap and abundant; soon it 
bloomed in every cottage garden ; how quickly it 
became beloved ! The graceful racemes of pendant 
rosy flowers were eagerly welcomed by children ; they 



Old Flower Favorites 187 

have some inexplicable, witching charm ; even young 
children in arms will stretch out their little hands and 
attempt to grasp the Dielytra, when showier blossoms 
are passed unheeded. Many tiny playthings can be 
formed of the blossoms : only deft fingers can shape 
the delicate lyre in the " frame." One of its folk 
names is " Lvre flower"; the two wings can be bent 
back to form a gondola. 

We speak of modern flowers, meaning those which 
have recentlv found their way to our gardens. Some 
of these clash with the older occupants, but one has 
promptly been given an honored place, and appears 
so allied to the older flowers in form and spirit that 
it seems to belong by their side — the Anemone Ja- 
ponica. Its purity and beauty make it one of the 
delights of the autumn garden ; our grandmothers 
would have rejoiced in it, and have divided the 
plants with each other till all had a row of it in the 
garden borders. In its red form it was first pictured 
in the Botanical Magazine^ in 1847, but it has been 
commonly seen in our gardens for only twenty or 
thirty years. 

These two flowers, the Dielytra spectabilis and 
Anemone Japonica, are among the valuable gifts 
which our gardens received through the visits 
to China of that adventurous collector, Robert 
Fortune. He went there first in 1 842, and for some 
years constantly sent home fresh treasures. Among 
the best-known garden flowers of his introducing 
are the two named above, and Kerria Japonica, 
Forsythia viridissima, Weigela rosea^ Gardenia For- 
tuniana. Daphne Fortunei^ Berheris Fortunei^ Jasminum 



I 88 Old Time Gardens 

nudiflorum^ and many varieties of Prunus, Vibur- 
num, Spiraea, Azalea, and Chrysanthemum. The 
fine yellow Rose known as Fortune's Yellow 
was acquired by him during a venturesome trip 
which he took, disguised as a Chinaman. The 
white Chinese Wistaria is regarded as the most 
important of his collections. It is deemed by some 




White Wistaria. 



flower-lovers the most exquisite flower in the entire 
world. The Chinese variety is distinguished by the 
length of its racemes, sometimes three feet long. 
The lower part of a vine of unusual luxuriance and 
beauty is shown above This special vine flowers in 
full richness of bloom every alternate year, and this 
photograph was taken during its "poor year" ; for in 
its finest inflorescence its photograph would show 



Old Flower Favorites 189 

simply a mass of indistinguishable whiteness. Mr. 
Howell has named it Ihe Fountain, and above the 
pouring of white blossoms shown in this picture is an 
upper cascade of bloom. This Wistaria is not grow- 
ing in an over-favorable locality, for winter winds are 
bleak on the southern shores of Long Island ; but I 
know no rival of its beauty in far warmer and more 
sheltered sites. 

Many of the Deutzias and Spiraeas which beau- 
tify our spring gardens were introduced from Japan 
before Fortune's day by Thunberg, the great ex- 
ploiter of Japanese shrubs, who died in 1828. The 
Spiraea Van Houtteii (facing page 190) is perhaps the 
most beautiful of all. Dean Hole names the Spiraeas, 
Deutzias, Weigelas, and Forsythias as having been 
brought into his ken in English gardens within his 
own lifetime, that is within fourscore years. 

In New England gardens the Forsythia is called 
'Sunshine Bush' — and never was folk name better 
bestowed, or rather evolved. For in the eager 
longing for spring which comes in the bitterness 
of March, when we cry out with the poet, "O God, 
for one clear day, a Snowdrop and sweet air," in our 
welcome to fresh life, whether shown in starting leaf 
or frail blossom, the Forsythia shines out a grate- 
ful delight to the eyes and heart, concentrating for 
a week all the golden radiance of sunlight, which 
later will be shared by sister shrubs and flowers. 
Forsythia suspensa^ falling in long sweeps of yellow 
bells, is in some favorable places a cascade of liquid 
light. No shrub in our gardens is more frequently 
ruined by gardeners than these Forsythias. It takes 



190 Old Time Gardens 

an artist to prune the Forsythia suspensa. You can 
steal the sunshine for your homes ere winter is gone 
by breaking long sprays of the Sunshine Bush and 
placing them in tall deep jars of water. Split up 
the ends of the stems that they may absorb plen- 
tiful water, and the golden plumes will soon open to 
fullest glory within doors. 

There is another yellow flowered shrub, the Cor- 
chorus, which seems as old as the Lilac, for it is 
ever found in old gardens ; but it proves to be a 
Japanese shrub which we have had only a hundred 
years. The little, deep yellow, globular blossoms 
appear in early spring and sparsely throughout the 
whole summer. The plant isn't very adorning in its 
usual ragged growth, but it was universally planted. 

It may be seen from the shrubs of popular 
growth which I have named that the present glory 
of our shrubberies is from the Japanese and Chinese 
shrubs, which came to us in the nineteenth century 
through Thunberg, Fortune, and other bold collec- 
tors. We had no shrub-sellers of importance in the 
eighteenth century; the garden lover turned wholly 
to the seedsman and bulb-grower for garden sup- 
plies, just as we do to-day to fill our old-fashioned 
gardens. The new shrubs and plants from China 
and Japan did not clash with the old garden flowers, 
they seemed like kinsfolk who had long been sepa- 
rated and rejoiced in being reunited ; they were 
indeed fellow-countrymen. We owed scores of our 
older flowers to the Orient, among them such 
important ones as the Lilac, Rose, Lily, Tulip, 
Crown Imperial. 



Old Flower Favorites 191 

We can fancy how delighted all these Oriental 
shrubs and flowers were to meet after so many years 
of separation. What pleasant greetings all the 
cousins must have given each other ; I am sure the 
Wistaria was glad to see the Lilac, and the Fortune's 
Yellow Rose was duly respectful to his old cousin, 
the thorny yellow Scotch Rose. And I seem to 
hear a bit of scandal passing from plant to plant ! 
Listen ! it is the Bleeding-heart gossiping with the 
Japanese Anemone : " Well ! I never thought that 
Lilac girl would grow to be such a beauty. So 
much color ! Do you suppose it can be natural ? 
Mrs. Tulip hinted to me yesterday that the girl used 
fertilizers, and it certainly looks so. But she can't 
say much herself — I never saw such a change in 
any creatures as in those Tulips. You remember 
how commonplace their clothes were ? Now such ex- 
travagance ! Scores of gowns, and all made abroad, 
and at her age ! Here are you and I, my dear, both 
young, and we really ought to have more clothes. 
I haven't a thing but this pink gown to put on. 
It's lucky you had a white gown, for no one liked 
your pink one. Here comes Mrs. Rose! How 
those Rose children have grown ! I never should 
have known them." 



CHAPTER VIII 



COMFORT ME WITH APPLES 



" What can your eye desire to see, vour eares to heare, your 
mouth to taste, or your nose to smell, that is not to be had in an 
Orchard ? with Abundance and Variety ? What shall I say r 
looo of Delights are in an Orchard ; and sooner shall I be weary 
than I can reckon the least part of that pleasure which one, that 
hath and loves an Orchard, may find therein." 

— A New Orchard, William Lawson, 1618. 

N every old-time garden, save the 
revered front yard, the borders 
stretched into the domain of the 
Currant and Gooseberry bushes, 
and into the orchard. Often a row 
of Crabapple trees pressed up into 
the garden's precincts and shaded 
the Sweet Peas. Orchard and garden could scarcely 
be separated, so closely did they grow up together. 
Every old garden book had long chapters on 
orchards, written con amove ^ with a zest sometimes 
lacking on other pages. How they loved in the 
days of Queen Elizabeth and of Queen Anne to sit 
in an orchard, planted, as Sir Philip Sidney said, 
"cunningly with trees of taste-pleasing fruits." 
How charming were their orchard seats, " fachoned 
for meditacon ! " Sometimes these orchard seats 
were banks of the strongly scented Camomile, a 

192 




Comfort Me with Apples 193 

favorite plant of Lord Bacon's day. Wordsworth 
wrote in jingling rhyme : — 

<< Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed 
Their snow-white blossoms on my head. 
With brightest sunshine round me spread 

Of spring's unclouded weather, 
In this sequester' d nook how sweet 
To sit upon my orchard seat ; 
And flowers and birds once more to greet. 

My last year's friends together." 

The incomparable beauty of the Apple tree in 
full bloom has ever been sung by the poets, but 
even their words cannot fitlv nor tuUy tell the delight 
to the senses of the close view of those exquisite 
pink and white domes, with their lovely opalescent 
tints, their ethereal fragrance; their beauty infinitely 
surpasses that of the vaunted Cherry plantations ot 
Japan. In the hand the flowers show a distinct 
ruddiness, a promise ot future red cheeks ; but a 
long vista of trees in bloom displays no tint of pink, 
the flowers seem purest white. Looking last May 
across the orchard at Hillside, adown the valley of 
the Hudson with its succession of blossoming 
orchards, we could paraphrase the words of Long- 
fellow's Golden Legend: — 

«' The valley stretching below 

Is white with blossoming Apple trees, as if touched with lightest 
snow." 

In the darkest night flowering Apple trees shine 
with clear radiance, and an orchard of eight hun- 
dred acres, such as may be seen in Niagara County, 
New York, shows a white expanse like a lake of 



194 



Old Time Ciardcns 



quicksilver. This couiitv, aiul its neighbor, Orleans 
County, form an Apple paradise — with their or- 
chards oMitrv and c\en a hundred thousand trees. 




Apple Trees at White Hall, the Home of Bishop Berkeley. 



The largest Apple tree in New F.no;hind is in 
Cheshire, Connecticut. Its trunk measures, one 
foot above all root enlargements, thirteen t'eet eight 
inches in circumference. 

Its age is traced back u hundred and fifty years. 



Comfort Me with Apples 195 

At White Hall, the old home of Bishop Berkeley 
in the island of Rhode Island, still stand the Apple 
trees of his day. A picture of them is shown on 
page 194. 

The sedate and comfortable motherliness of old 
Apple trees is felt by all Apple lovers. John Bur- 
roughs speaks of " maternal old Apple trees, regu- 
lar old grandmothers, who have seen trouble." 
James Lane Allen, amid his apostrophes to the 
Hemp plant, has given us some beautiful glimpses 
of Apple trees and his love for them. He tells of 
" provident old tree mothers on the orchard slope, 
whose red-cheeked children are autumn Apples." 
It is this motherliness, this domesticity, this home- 
liness that makes the Apple tree so cherished, so 
beloved. No scene of life in the country ever seems 
to me homelike if it lacks an Apple orchard — this 
doubtless, because in my birthplace in New Kngland 
they form a part of every farm scene, of every coun- 
try home. Apple trees soften and humanize the 
wildest country scene. Even in a remote pasture, 
or on a mountain side, they convey a sentiment of 
home; and after being lost in the mazes of close- 
grown wood-roads Apple trees are inexpressibly 
welcome as giving promise of a sheltering roof-tree. 
Thoreau wrote of wild Apples, but to me no Apples 
ever look wild. They may be the veriest Crabs, 
growing in wild spots, unbidden, and savage and 
bitter in their tang, but even these seedling Pippins 
are domestic in aspect. 

On the southern shores of Long Island, where 
meadow, pasture, and farm are in soil and crops 



196 Old Time Gardens 

like New England, the trequent absence of Apple 
orchards makes these farm scenes unsatisfying, not 
homelike. No other fruit trees can take their place. 
An Orange tree, with its rich glossy toliage, its 
perfumed ivorv flowers and buds, and abundant 
golden fruit, is an exquisite creation of nature ; but 
an Orange grove has no ideality. All truit trees 
have a beautiful inflorescence — tew have senti- 
ment. The tint ot a blossoming Peach tree is per- 
fect ; but I care not for a Peach orchard. Plantations 
of healthy Cherry trees are lovely in flower and truit 
time, whether in Japan or Massachusetts, and a 
Cherry tree is full of happy child memories ; but 
their tree torms in America are otten disfigured with 
that wjlx fungous blight which is all the more dis- 
agreeable to us since we hear now ot its close kin- 
ship to disease germs in the animal world. 

I cannot see how they avoid ha\ing Apple trees 
on these Long Island tarms, for the Apple is tully 
determined to stand beside every home and in every 
garden in the land. It does not have to be invited; 
it will plant and maintain itselt. Nearly all truits 
and vegetables which we prize, depend on our plant- 
ing and care, but the Apple is as independent as the 
New England farmer. In truth Apple trees would 
grow on these farms if they were loved or even 
tolerated, for I find them forced into Long Island 
hedge-rows as relentlessly as are forest trees. 

The Indians called the Plantain the " white man's 
foot," tor it sprung up wherever he trod; the 
Apple tree mio;ht be called the white man's shadow. 
It is the V^ine and Fig tree of the temperate zone, 



Comfort Me with Apples 



197 



and might be chosen as the totem of the white set- 
tlers. Our love for the Apple is natural, for it was 
the characteristic fruit of Britain ; the clergy were 
its chief cultivators ; they grew Apples in their mon- 
astery gardens, prayed for them in special religious 
ceremonies, sheltered the fruit by laws, and even 




"The valley stretching below 
is white with blossoming Apple trees, as if touched with lightest snow." 



named the Apple when pronouncing the blessings 
of (jod upon their princes and rulers. 

Thoreau described an era of luxury as one in 
which men cultivate the Apple and the amenities of 
the garden. He thought it indicated relaxed nerves 
to read gardening books, and he regarded garden- 
ing as a civil and social function, not a love of 
nature. He tells of his own love for freedom and 
savagery — and he found what he so deemed at 



198 



Old Time Gardens 



Walden Pond. I am told his haunts are little 
changed since the years when he lived there; and 
I had expected to find Walden Pond a scene of 
much wild beauty, but it was the mildest of wild 




Old Hand-power Cider Mill 



woods ; it seemed to me as thoroughly civilized and 
social as an Apple orchard. 

Thoreau christened the Apple trees of his acquain- 
tance with appropriate names in the lingua vernacula: 
the Truant's Apple, the Saunterer's Apple, Decern- 



Comfort Me with Apples 199 

ber Eating, Wine of New England, the Apple of the 
Dell in the Wood, the Apple of the Hollow in the 
Pasture, the Railroad Apple, the Cellar-hole Apple, 
the Frozen-thawed, and many more; these he loved 
for their fruit ; to them let me add the Playhouse 
Apple trees, loved solely for their ingeniously 
twisted branches, an Apple tree of the garden, 
often overhanging the flower borders. I recall 
their glorious whiteness in the spring, but I cannot 
remember that they bore any fruit save a group of 
serious little girls. I know there were no Apples 
on the Playhouse Apple trees in my garden, nor on 
the one in Nelly Gilbert's or Ella Partridge's gar- 
den. There is no play place for girls like an old 
Apple tree. The main limbs leave the trunk at ex- 
actly the right height for children to reach, and every 
branch and twig seems to grow and turn only to form 
delightful perches for children to climb among and 
cling to. Some Apple trees in our town had a 
copy of an Elizabethan garden furnishing; their 
branches enclosed tree platforms about twelve feet 
from the ground, reached by a narrow ladder or 
flight of steps. These were built by generous 
parents for their children's playhouses, but their 
approach of ladder was too unhazardous, their 
railings too safety-assuring, to prove anything but 
conventional and uninteresting. The natural Apple 
tree offered infinite variety, and a slight sense of 
daring to the climber. Its possibility of accident 
was fulfilled ; untold number of broken arms and 
ribs — juvenile — were resultant from falls from 
Apple trees. 



200 



Old Time Gardens 



One of Thoreau's Apples was the Green Apple 
[Malus viridis, or Cholera in orb if era puerelis delec- 
tissima). I know not for how many centuries boys 
(and girls too) have eaten and suffered from green 
apples. A description was written in 1684 which 




Pressing out Cider in Old Hand Mill. 



might have happened anv summer since ; I quote 
it with reminiscent deHght, for I have the same 
love for the spirited relation that I had in mv early 
youth when I never, for a moment, in spite of the 
significant names, deemed the entire book any- 



Comfort Me with Apples 201 

thing but a real story ; the notion that Pilgrim s 
Progress was an allegory never entered my mind. 

" Now there was on the other side of the wall a Garden. 
And some of the Fruit-Trees that grew in the Garden shot 
their Branches over the Wall, and being mellow, they that 
found them did gather them up and oft eat of them to their 
hurt. So Chyhuana i Boys, as Boys are apt to do., being 
pleas'd with the Trees did Plash them and began to eat. 
Their Mother did also chide them for so doing, but still 
the Boys went on. Now Mattheiv the Eldest Son of 
Christiana fell sick. . . . There dwelt not far from thence 
one Mr. Skill an Antient and well approved Physician. 
So Christiana desired it and they sent for him and he came. 
And when he was entered the Room and a little observed 
the Boy he concluded that he was sick of the Gripes. Then 
he said to his Mother, IP'hat Diet has Matthew of late fed 
upon? Diet., said Christiana, nothing but ivhich is ivholesome. 
The Physician answered. This Boy has been tampering ivith 
something that lies in his Maiv undigested. . . . Then said 
Samue', Mother., Mother., what was that whieh my brother did 
gather up and eat. Ton know there was an Orchard and my 
Brother did plash and eat. True., iny child., said Christian^, 
naughty boy as he ivas. I did chide him and yet he ivould eat 
thereof." 

The realistic treatment of Mr, Skill and Matthew's 
recovery thereby need not be quoted. 

An historic Apple much esteemed in Connecticut 
and Rhode Island, and often planted at the edge of 
the flower garden, is called the Sapson, or Early 
Sapson, Sapson Sweet, Sapsyvine, and in Pennsyl- 
vania, Wine-sap. The name is a corruption of the 
old English Apple name, Sops-o'-wine. It is a 



202 Old Time Gardens 

charming little red-cheeked Apple of early autumn, 
slightly larger than a healthy Crab-apple. The clear 
red of its skin perfuses in coral-colored veins and 
beautiful shadings to its very core. It has a con- 
densed, spicy, aromatic flavor, not sharp like a Crab- 
apple, but it makes a better jelly even than the 
Crab-apple — jelly of a ruby color with an almost 
wine-like flavor, a true Sops-of-wine. This fruit is 
deemed so choice that I have known the sale of a 
farm to halt for some weeks until it could be 
proved that certain Apple trees in the orchard bore 
the esteemed Sapsyvines. 

Under New England and New York tarm-houses 
was a cellar filled with bins for vegetables and 
apples. As the winter passed on there rose from 
these cellars a curious, earthy, appley smell, which 
always seemed most powerful in the best parlor, 
the room least used. How Schiller, who loved 
the scent of rotten apples, would have rejoiced ! 
The cellar also contained many barrels ot cider; 
for the beautv of the Apple trees, and the use of 
their fruit as food, were not the only factors which 
influenced the planting of the many Apple orchards 
ot the new world; thev afforded a universal drink 
— cider. I have written at length, in my books. 
Home Life in Colonial Davs and Stage-Coach and 
Tavern Days, the history of the vogue and manu- 
facture of cider in the new world. The cherished 
Apple orchards of Endicott, Blackstone, Wolcott, 
and Winthrop were so speedily multiplied that by 
1670 cider was plentiful and cheap everywhere. By 
the opening of the eighteenth century it had wholly 



Comfort Me with Apples 



203 



crowded out beer and metheglin ; and was the drink 
of old and young on all occasions. 

At first, cider was made by pounding the Apples 
by hand in wooden mortars ; then simple mills were 
formed of a hollowed log and a spring board. 
Rude hand presses, such as are shown on pages 198 
and 200, were known in 1660, and lingered to our 




Old hi 



.ver Cider Mill. 



own day. Kalm, the Swedish naturalist, saw ancient 
horse presses (like the one depicted on this page) in 
use in the Hudson River Valley in 1749. In 
autumn the whole country-side was scented with 
the sour, fruity smell from these cider mills ; and 
the gift of a draught of sweet cider to any passer-by 
was as ample and free as of water from the brook- 
side. The cider when barrelled and stored for 
winter was equally free to all comers, as well it 



204 



Old rime Gardens 



might be, when many families stored a hundred 
barrels for winter use. 

The Washingtonian or Temperance reform which 
swept over this country like a purifying wind in the 




"Straining off" the Cider. 

first quarter of the nineteenth century, found many 
temporizers who tried to exclude cider from the list 
of intoxicating drinks which conv^erts pledged them- 
selves to abandon. Some farmers who adopted this 
much-needed movement against the all-prevailing 



Comfort Me with Apples 205 

vice of drunkenness received it with fanatic zeal. 
It makes the heart of the Apple lover ache to read 
that in this spirit they cut down whole orchards of 
flourishing Apple trees, since they could conceive 
no adequate use for their apples save for cider. 
That any should have tried to exclude cider from 
the list of intoxicating beverages seems barefaced 
indeed to those who have tasted that most potent of 
all spirits — frozen cider. I once drank a small 
modicum of Jericho cider, as smooth as Benedictine 
and more persuasive, which made a raw day in April 
seem like sunny midsummer. I afterward learned 
from the ingenuous Long Island farmer whose hospi- 
tality gave me this liqueur that it had been frozen 
seven times. Each time he had thrust a red-hot 
poker into the bung-hole of the barrel, melted all the 
watery ice and poured it out ; therefore the very 
essence of the cider was all that remained. 

It is interesting to note the folk customs of Old 
England which have lingered here, such as domestic 
love divinations. The poet Gay wrote : — 

" I pare this Pippin round and round again, 
My shepherd's name to flourish on the plain. 
I fling th' unbroken paring o'er my head. 
Upon the grass a perfect L. is read." 

I have seen New England schoolgirls, scores of 
times, thus toss an " unbroken paring." An ancient 
trial of my youth was done with Apple seeds ; these 
were named for various swains, then slightly wetted 
and stuck on the cheek or forehead, while we 
chanted : — 



2o6 Old Time Gardens 

" Pippin ! Pippin ! Paradise ! 

Tell me where my true love lies ! " 

The seed that remained longest in place indicated 
the favored and favoring lover. 

With the neglect in this country of Saints' Days 
and the Puritanical frowning down of all folk cus- 
toms connected with them, we lost the delighttul was- 
sailing of the Apple trees. This, like many another 
religious observance, was a relic of heathen sacri- 
fice, in this case to Pomona. It was celebrated 
with slight variations in various parts of England ; 
and was called an Apple howling, a wassailing, a 
youling, and other terms. The farmer and his 
workmen carried to the orchard great jugs of cider 
or milk pans filled with cider and roasted apples. 
Encircling in turn the best bearing trees, they drank 
from "clayen-cups," and poured part of the contents 
on the ground under the trees. And while they 
wassailed the trees they sang: — 

" Here's to thee, old Apple tree ! 
Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow. 
And whence thou mayst bear Apples enow! 

Hats full! caps full, 

Bushel — Bushel — sacks full. 

And my pockets full too." 

Another Devonshire rhyme ran : — 

♦* Health to thee, good Apple tree ! 
Well to bear pocket-fulls, hat-fulls. 
Peck-fulls, bushel bag-fulls." 

The wassailing of the trees gave place in America 
to a jovial autumnal gathering known as an Apple 



Comfort Me with Apples 207 

cut, an Apple paring, or an Apple bee. The cheer- 
ful kitchen of the farm-house was set out with its 
entire array of empty pans, pails, tubs, and baskets. 
Heaped-up barrels of apples stood in the centre of 
the room. The many skilful hands of willing 
neighbors emptied the barrels, and with sharp knives 
or an occasional Apple parer, filled the empty 
vessels with cleanly pared and quartered apples. 

When the work was finished, divinations with 
Apple parings and Apple seeds w^ere tried, simple 
country games were played ; occasionally there was 
a fiddler and a dance. An autumnal supper was 
served from the three zones of the farm-house : 
nuts from the attic. Apples from the pantry, and 
cider from the cellar. The apple-quarters intended 
for drying were strung on homespun linen thread 
and hung out of doors on clear drying days. A 
humble hillside home in New Hampshire thus 
quaintly festooned is shown in the illustration oppo- 
site page 208 — a characteristic New Hampshire 
landscape. When thoroughly dried in sun and 
wind, these sliced apples were stored for the winter 
by being hung from rafter to rafter of various living 
rooms, and remained thus for months (gathering 
vast accumulations of dust and germs for our bliss- 
fully ignorant and unsqueamish grandparents) until 
the early days of spring, when Apple sauce, Apple 
butter, and the stores of Apple bin and Apple pit 
were exhausted, and they then afforded, after proper 
baths and soakings, the wherewithal for that domes- 
tic comestible — dried Apple pie. The Swedish 
parson. Dr. Acrelius, writing home to Sweden in 



2oS Old Time Gardens 

1758 an account of the settlement of Delaware, 
said : — 

" Apple pie is used throughout the whole year, and when 
fresh Apples are no longer to be had, dried ones are used. 
It is the evening meal of children. House pie, in country 
places, is made of Apples neither peeled nor freed from their 
cores, and its crust is not broken if a wagon wheel goes 
over it." 

I always had an undue estimation of Apple pie 
in my childhood, from an accidental cause : we were 
requested bv the conscientious teacher in our Sunday- 
school to "take out" each week without tail from 
the " Select Library " of the school a " Sabbath- 
school Library Book." The colorless, albeit pious, 
contents of the books classed under that title 
are well known to those of my generation ; even 
such a child of the Puritans as I was could not 
read them. There were two anchors in that sea of 
despair, — but feeble holds would they seem to-day, 
— the first volumes of ^^eecbv and The PFidey Wide 
World. With the disingenuousness of childhood I 
satisfied the rules of the school and my own con- 
science by carrying home these two books, and no 
others, on alternate Sundays for certainly two years. 
The only wonder in the matter was that the trans- 
action escaped my Mother's eye for so long a time. 
I read only isolated scenes ; of these the favorite 
was the one wherein Fleda carries to the woods for 
the hungry visitor, who was of the English nobility, 
several large and toothsome sections of green Apple 
pie and cheese. The prominence given to that Ap- 



Comfort Me with Apples 209 

pie pie in that book and in my two years of reading 
idealized it. On a glorious day last October I drove 
to New Canaan, the town which was the prototype 
of Queechy.' Hungry as ever in childhood from 
the clear autumnal air and the long drive from 
Lenox, we asked for luncheon at what was reported 
to be a village hostelry. The exact counterpart 
of Miss Cynthia Gall responded rather sourly that 
she wasn't "boarding or baiting" that year. Hum- 
ble entreaties for provender of any kind elicited 
from her for each of us a slice of cheese and a large 
and truly noble section of Apple pie, the very pie 
of Fleda's tale, which we ate with a bewildered sense 
as of a previous existence. This was intensified as 
we strolled to the brook under the Oueechy Sugar 
Maples, and gathered there the great-grandchildren 
of Fleda's Watercresses, and heard the sound of 
Hugh's sawmills. 

Six hundred years ago English gentlewomen and 
goodwives were cooking Apples just as we cook them 
now — they even had Apple pie. A delightful rec- 
ipe of the fourteenth century was for"Appeluns for 
a Lorde, in opyntide." Opyntide was springtime; 
this was, therefore, a spring dish fit for a lord. 

Apple-moy and Apple-mos, Apple Tansy, and 
Pommys-morle were delightful dishes and very rich 
food as well. The word pomatum has now no asso- 
ciation with pomum, but originally pomatum was 
made partly of Apples. In an old " Dialog between 
Soarness and Chirurgi," written by one Dr. Bulleyne 
in the days of Oueen Elizabeth, is found this ques- 
tion and its answer: — 



2IO Old Time Gardens 

*' Soarness. How make you pomatum ? 

" Chirurgi. Take the fat of a yearly kyd one pound, tem- 
per it with the water of musk-roses by the space of foure 
dayes, then take fiye apples, and dresse them, and cut them 
in pieces, and lard them with cloves, then boyl them alto- 
geather in the same water of roses in one vessel of glasse 
set within another vessel, let it hovl on the fyre so long tyll 
it all be white, then wash them with the same water of 
muske-roses, this done kcpe it in a glasse and if you will 
have it to smell better, then you must put in a little civet 
or musk, or both, or ambergrice. Gentil women doe use 
this to make thcvr faces fayr and smooth, for it h?aleth 
cliftes in the lippes, or in any places of the hands and 
face." 

With the omission of the civet or musk I am 
sure this would make to-day a delightful cream ; but 
there is one condition which the "gentil woman" of 
to-day could scarcely furnish — the infinite patience 
and leisure which accompanied and perfected all 
such domestic work three centuries ago. A po- 
mander was made ot " the maste ot a sweet Apple 
tree being gathered betwixt two Laciy days," mixed 
with various sweet-scented drugs and gums and 
Rose leaves, and shaped into a ball or bracelet. 

The successor of the pomander was the Clove 
Apple, or " Comfort Apple," an Apple stuck solidly 
with cloves. In country communities, one was 
given as an expression of sympathy in trouble or 
sorrow. Visiting a country "poorhouse" recently, 
we were shown a "Comfort-apple" which had been 
sent to one of the inmates by a friend ; tor even 
paupers have friends. 



Comfort Mc with Apples 



211 



" Taffatv tarts " were of paste filled with Apples 
sweetened and seasoned with Lemon, Rose-water, 
and Fennel seed. Apple-sticklin', Apple-stucklin, 
Apple-twelin, Apple-hoglin, are old English pro- 
vincial names of Apple pie; Apple-betty is a New 




Ancient Apple Picker, Apple Racks, Apple Parers, Apple-butter Ket- 
tle, Apple-butter Paddle, Apple-butter Stirrer, Apple-butter Crocks. 

England term. The Apple Slump of New England 
homes was not the "slump-pye" of old England, 
which was a rich mutton pie flavored with wine and 
jelly, and covered with a rich confection of nuts and 
fruit. 

In Pennsylvania, among the people known as the 
Pennsylvania Dutch, the Apple frolic was universal. 



212 Old Time Gardens 

Each neighbor brought his or her own Apple parer. 
This people make great use of Apples and cider in 
their food, and have many curious modes ot cook- 
ing them. Dr. Heilman in his paper on " The 
Old Cider Mill" tells of their delicacy of "cider 
time " called cider soup, made of equal parts of 
cider and water, boiled and thickened with sweet 
cream and flour ; when ready to serve, bits of bread 
or toast are placed in it. " Mole cider" is made 
of boiling cider thickened to a syrup with beaten 
eggs and milk. But of greatest importance, both 
for home consumption and tor the market, is the 
staple known as Apple butter. This is made from 
sweet cider boiled down to about one-third its 
original quantity. To this is added an equal weight 
of sliced Apples, about a third as much of molasses, 
and various spices, such as cloves, ginger, mace, 
cinnamon or even pepper, all boiled together tor 
twelve or fifteen hours. Often the great kettle 
is filled with cider in the morning, and boiled 
and stirred constantly all dav, then the sliced 
Apples are added at night, and the monotonous 
stirring continues till morning, when the butter 
can be packed in jars and kegs tor winter use. 
This Apple butter is not at all like Apple sauce ; 
it has no granulated appearance, but is smooth 
and solid like cheese and dark red in color. 
Apple butter is stirred by a pole having upon 
one end a perforated blade or paddle set at right 
angles. Sometimes a bar was laid from rim to 
rim of the caldron, and worked by a crank that 
turned a similar paddle. A collection of ancient 



Comfort Me with Apples 213 

utensils used in making Apple butter is shown on 
page 211; these are from the collections of the 
Bucks County Historical Society. Opposite page 
214 is shown an ancient open-air fireplace and an 
old couple making Apple butter just as they have 
done for over half a century. 

In New England what the " hired man" on the 
farm called " biled cider Apple sass," took the place 
of Apple butter. Preferably this was made in the 
" summer kitchen," where three kettles, usually of 
graduated sizes, could be set over the fire ; the 
three kettles could be hung from a crane, or 
trammels. All were filled with cider, and as the 
liquid boiled away in the largest kettle it was filled 
from the second and that from the third. The 
fresh cider was always poured into the third kettle, 
thus the large kettle was never checked in its boil- 
ing. This continued till the cider was as thick as 
molasses. Apples (preferably Pound Sweets or 
Pumpkin Sweets) had been chosen with care, pared, 
cored, and quartered, and heated in a small kettle. 
These were slowly added to the thickened cider, in 
small quantities, in order not to check the boiling. 
The rule was to cook them till so softened that a 
rye straw could be run into them, and yet they 
must retain their shape. This was truly a critical 
time ; the slightest scorched flavor would ruin the 
whole kettleful. A great wooden, long-handled, 
shovel-like ladle was used to stir the sauce fiercely 
until it was finished in triumph. Often a barrel of 
this was made by our grandmothers, and frozen 
solid for winter use. The farmer and "hired men " 



214 Old Time Gardens 

ate it clear as a relish with meats ; and it was suited 
to appetites and digestions which had been formed 
by a diet of salted meats, fried breads, many pickles, 
and the drinking of hot cider sprinkled with pepper. 
Emerson well named the Apple the social fruit 
of New England. It ever has been and is still the 
grateful promoter and unfailing aid to informal 
social intercourse in the country-side ; but the 
Apple tree is something far nobler even than being 
the sign of cheerful and cordial acquaintance; it is 
the beautiful rural emblem of industrious and tem- 
perate home life. Hence, let us wassail with a 
will : — 

" Here's to thee, old Apple tree ! 
Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow. 
And whence thou mayst bear Apples enow !" 




Making Apple Buuci. 



CHAPTER IX 



GARDENS OF THE POETS 




"The chief use of flowers is to illustrate quotations from the 
poets." 

LL English poets have ever been 
ready to sing English flowers 
until jesters have laughed, and 
to sing garden flowers as well as 
wild flowers. Few have really 
described a garden, though the 
orderly distribution of flowers 
might be held to be akin to 
the restraint of rhyme and rhythm in poetry. 

It has been the afi^ectionate tribute and happy 
diversion of those who love both poetry and flowers 
to note the flowers beloved of various poets, and 
gather them together, either in a book or a gar- 
den. The pages of Milton cannot be forced, even 
by his most ardent admirers, to indicate any inti- 
mate knowledge of flowers. He certainly makes 
some verv elegant classical allusions to flowers and 
fruits, and some amusingly vague ones as well. 
" The Flowers of Spenser," and " A Posy from 
Chaucer," are the titles of most readable chapters 
in A Garden of Simples^ but the allusions and 
quotations from both authors are pleasing and 

215 



2l6 



Old Time Gardens 



interesting, rather than informing as to the real 
variety and description of the flowers of their day. 
Nearly all the older English poets, though writing 
glibly ot woods and vales, ot shepherds and swains, 
of buds and blossoms, scarcely allude to a flower in a 
natural way. Herrick was truly a flower lover, and, 
as the critic said, "many flowers Q;row to illustrate 




Shakespeare Bora 



quotations from his works." The flowers named 
of Shakespeare have been written about in varied 
books, Shakespeare's Garden, Shakespeare's Bouquet^ 
Flowers from Str at ford-on- A von, etc. These are 
easily led in fulness of detail, exactness of informa- 
tion, and delightful literary quality by that truly 
perfect book, beloved of all garden lovers, The Plant 
Lore and Garden Craft of Shakespeare, by Canon Ella- 



Gardens of the Poets 217 

combe. Of it I never weary, and for it I am ever 
grateful. 

Shakespeare Gardens, or Shakespeare Borders, 
too, are laid out and set with every tree, shrub, and 
flower named in Shakespeare, and these are over 
two hundred in number. A distinguishing mark 
of the Shakespeare Border of Lady Warwick is the 
peculiar label set alongside each plant. This label 
is of pottery, greenish-brown in tint, shaped like a 
butterfly, bearing on its wings a quotation of a few 
words and the play reference relating to each special 
plant. Of course these words have been fired in 
and are thus permanent. Pretty as they are in 
themselves they must be disfiguring to the borders 
— as all labels are in a garden. 

In the garden at Hillside, near Albany, New 
York, grows a green and flourishing Shakespeare 
Border, gathered ten years ago by the mistress of 
the garden. I use the terms green and flourishing 
with exactness in this connection, for a great impres- 
sion made by this border is of its thriving health, 
and also of the predominance of green leafage of 
every variety, shape, manner of growth, and oddness 
of tint. In this latter respect it is infinitely more 
beautiful than the ordinary border, varying from 
silvery glaucous green through greens of yellow 
or brownish shade to the blue-black greens of some 
herbs ; and among these green leaves are many of 
sweet or pungent scent, and of medicinal qualities, 
such as are seldom grown to-day save in some such 
choice and chosen spot. There is less bloom in 
this Shakespeare Border than in our modern flower 



21 8 Old Time Gardens 

beds, and the flowers are not so large or brilliant as 
our modern favorites ; but, quiet as they are, they 
are said to excel the blossoms of the same plants of 
Shakespeare's own dav, which we learn from the old 
herbalists were smaller and less varied in color and 
of simpler tints than those of their descendants. 
At the first glance this Shakespeare Border shines 
chiefly in the light of the imagination, as stirred by 
the poet's noble words ; but do not dwell on this 
border as a whole, as something only to be looked 
at ; read the pages of this garden, dwell on each 
leafy sentence, and you are entranced with its beau- 
tiful significance. It was not gathered with so much 
thought, and each plant and seed set out anci watched 
and reared like a delicate child, to become a show 
place; it appeals for a more intimate regard; and 
we find that its detail makes its charm. 

Such a garden as this appeals warmly to any- 
one who is sensitive to the imaginative element ot 
flower beauty. Many garden makers forget that a 
flower bed is a group of living beings — perhaps ot 
sentient beings — as well as a mass of beautitul color. 
Modern gardens tend far too much toward the dis- 
play ot the united effect of growing plants, to a 
striving for universal brilliancy, rather than atten- 
tion to and love for separate flowers. There was 
refreshment of spirit as well as of the senses in the 
old-time garden of flowers, such as these planted in 
this Shakespeare Border, and it stirred the heart of 
the poet as could no modern flower gardens. 

The scattering inflorescence and the tiny size of 
the blossoms give to this Shakespeare Border an 





. '^:;Vy?- -v .'^ " 

• , ■ ■ ?■ ' ''^ 



J 



Gardens of the Poets 219 

unusual aspect of demureness and delicacy, and the 
plants seem to cling with affection and trust to the 
path of their human protector; they look simple 
and confiding, and seem close both to nature and to 
man. This homelike and modest quality is shown, 
I think, even in the presentation in black and white 
given on page 216 and opposite page, 218, though 
it shows still more in the garden when the wide 
range of tint of foliage is added. 

A most appropriate companion of the old flowers 
in this Shakespeare Border is the sun-dial, which is 
an exact copy of the one at Abbotsford, Scotland. 
It bears the motto 'EPXETAI TAP NTH meaning, 
" For the night cometh." It was chosen by Sir 
Walter Scott, for his sun-dial, as a solemn monitor 
to himself of the hour " when no man can work." 
It was copied from a motto on the dial-plate of 
the watch of the great Dr. Samuel Johnson ; and 
it is curious that in both cases the word TAP 
should be introduced, for it is not in the clause in 
the New Testament from which the motto was taken. 
It is a beautiful motto and one of singular appro- 
priateness for a sun-dial. The pedestal of this 
sun-dial is of simple lines, but it is dignified and 
pleasing, aside from the great interest of association 
which surrounds it. 

I had a happy sense, when walking through this 
garden, that, besides my congenial living companion- 
ship, I had the company of some noble Elizabethan 
ghosts ; and I know that if Shakespeare and Jonson 
and Herrick were to come to Hillside, they would 
find the garden so familiar to them ; they would 



220 



Old Time Gardens 



m iir:.r v^^ 






The Beauty of Winter Lilacs. 

greet the plants like old friends, they would note 
how fine grew the Rosemary this year, how sweet 
were the Lady's-smocks, how fair the Gillyflowers. 
And Gerarde and Parkinson would ponder, too, 
over all the herbs and simples of their own Physick 
Gardens, and compare notes. Above all I seemed 
to see, walking soberly by my side, breathing in with 
delight the varied scents of leaf and blossom, that 
lover and writer of flowers and gardens, Lord 



Gardens of the Poets 221 

Bacon — and not in the disguise of Shakespeare 
either. For no stronger proofs can be found of the 
existence of two individualities than are in the works 
of each of these men, in their sentences and pages 
which relate to gardens and flowers. 

This fair garden and Shakespeare Border are 
loveliest in the cool of the day, in the dawn or 
at early eve ; and those who muse may then remem- 
ber another Presence in a garden in the cool of the 
day. And then I recall that gem of English poesy 
which always makes me pitiful of its author; that he 
could write this, and yet, in his hundreds of pages of 
English verse, make not another memorable line : — 

*' A Garden is a lovesome thing, God wot ; 

Rose plot. 
Fringed pool, 

Ferned grot. 
The veriest school of Peace ; 
And yet the fool 

Contends that God is not in gardens. 
Not in gardens ! When the eve is cool ! 

Nay, but I have a sign. 
'Tis very sure God walks in mine." 

Shakespeare Borders grow very readily and freely 
in England, save in the case of the few tropical flowers 
and trees named in the pages of the great dramatist ; 
but this Shakespeare Border at Hillside needs much 
cherishing. The plants of Heather and Broom and 
Gorse have to be specially coddled by transplanting 
under cold frames during the long winter months in 
frozen Albany ; and thus they find vast contrast to 
their free, unsheltered life in Great Britain, 



222 



Old Time Gardens 



Persistent efforts have been made to acclimate 
both Heather and Gorse in America. We have seen 
how Broom came uninvited and spread unasked on 
the Massachusetts coast; but Gorse and Heather 
have proved shy creatures. On the beautiful island 
of Naushon the carefully planted Gorse may be 
found spread in widely scattered spots and also on 
the near-by mainland, but it cannot be said to have 




Garden of Mrs. Frank Robinson, Wakefield, Rhode Island. 



thrived markedly. The Scotch Heather, too, has 
been frequently planted, and watched and pushed, 
but it is slow to become acclimated. It is not be- 
cause the winters are too cold, for it is found in 
considerable amount in bitter Newfoundland ; per- 
haps it prefers to live under a crown. 

Modern authors have seldom given their names 
to gardens, not even Tennyson with his intimate 
and extended knowledge of garden flowers. A 



Gardens of the Poets 223 

Mary Howitt Garden was planned, full of homely 
old blooms, such as she loves to name in her verse ; 
but it would have slight significance save to its 
maker, since no one cares to read Mary Howitt 
nowadays. In that charming book, Syhanas 
Letters to an Unknown Friend (which I know were 
written to me), the author, E. V. B., says, " The 
very ideal of a garden, and the only one I know, 
is found in Shelley's Sensitive Plant.'' With quick 
championing of a beloved poet, I at once thought 
of the radiant garden of flowers in Keats's heart 
and poems. Then I reread the Sensitive Plant in 
a spirit of utmost fairness and critical friendliness, 
and I am willing to yield the Shelley Garden to 
Sylvana, while I keep, for my own delight, my 
Keats garden of sunshine, color, and warmth. 

That Keats had a profound knowledge and love 
of flowers is shown in his letters as well as his 
poems. Only a few months before his death, when 
stricken with and fighting a fatal disease, he 
wrote : — 



*■'■ How astonishingly does the chance of leaving the 
world impress a sense of its natural beauties upon me ! 
Like poor p'alstafF, though I do not babble, I think of 
green fields. I muse with greatest affection on every 
flower I have known from my infancy — their shapes and 
colors are as new to me as if I had just created them with 
a superhuman fancy. It is because they are connected 
with the most thoughtless and the happiest moments of my 
hfe." 



224 Old Time Gardens 

Near the close ot his Endymion he wrote : — 

" Nor much it grieves 
To die, when summer dies on the cold sward. 
Why, I have been a butterfly, a lord 
Of flowers, garlands, love-knots, silly posies. 
Groves, meadows, melodies, and arbor roses ; 
My kingdom's at its death, and just it is 
Tliat I should die with it." 

In the summer of 1816, under the influence of a 
happv dav at Hampstead, he wrote that lovelv poem, 
" 1 stood tiptoe upon a little hill." Atter a descrip- 
tion of the general scene, a special corner ot beauty 
is thus told : — 

•♦A bush ot Mav flowers with the bees about them — 
Ah, sure no bashful nook could be without them — 
And let a lush Laburnuin oversweep them. 
And let long grass grow round the roots to keep them 
Moist, cool, and green ; and shade the \'iolets 
That thev mav bind the moss in leafy nets. 
A Filbert hedge with Wild-brier over trim'd. 
And clumps of Woodbine taking the soft wind. 
Upon their summer thrones. . . ." 

Then come these wonderful lines, which belittle 
all other descriptions of Sweet Peas : — 

•• Here are Sweet Peas, on tiptoe for a flight. 
With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white. 
And taper fingers catching at all things 
To bind them all about with tiny wings." 

Keats states in his letters that his love of flowers 
was wholly for those of the "common s^arden sort," 



Gardens of the Poets 



225 



not for flowers of the greenhouse or difficult culti- 
vation, nor do I find in his lines any evidence 




The Parson's Walk. 



of extended familiarity with English wild flowers. 
He certainly does not know the flowers of woods 
and fields as does Matthew Arnold, 



226 Old Time Gardens 

The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table says : " Did 
you ever hear a poet who did not talk flowers ? 
Don't you think a poem which for the sake of 
being original should leave them out, would be like 
those verses where the letter a or e, or some other, 
is omitted ? No ; they will bloom over and over 
again in poems as in the summer fields, to the end 
of time, always old and always new." The Auto- 
crat himself knew well a poet who never talked 
flowers in his poems, a poet beloved of all other 
poets, — Arthur Hugh Clough, — though he loved 
and knew all flowers. From Matthew Arnold's 
beautiful tribute to him, are a few of his wonderful 
flower lines, cut out from their fellows : — 

*' Through the thick Corn the scarlet Poppies peep. 
And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see 
Pale blue Convolvulus in tendrils creep. 

And air-swept Lindens yield 
Their scent, and rusde down their perfumed showers 
Of bloom. . . , 

* * * * Mi 

**Soon will the high midsummer pomps come on. 
Soon will the Musk Carnations break and swell. 
Soon shall we have gold-dusted Snapdragon, 
Sweet-william with his homely cottage smell, 
And Stocks in fragrant blow." 

Oh, what a master hand ! Where in all English 
verse are fairer flower hues ? And where is a more 
beautiful description of a midsummer evening, than 
Arnold's exquisite lines beginning: — 

•' The evening comes ; the fields are still ; 
The tinkle of the thirsty rill." 



Gardens of the Poets 227 

Dr. Holmes was also a master in the description 
of garden flowers. I should know, had I never 
been told save from his verses, just the kind of a 
Cambridge garden he was reared in, and what 
flowers grew in it. Lowell, too, gives ample evi- 
dence of a New England childhood in a garden. 

The gardens of Shenstone's Schoolmistress and 
of Thomson's poems come to our minds without 
great warmth of welcome from us ; while Clare's 
lines are full of charm : — 

"And where the Marjoram once, and Sage and Rue, 
And Balm, and Mint, with curl'd leaf Parsley grew. 
And double Marigolds, and silver Thyme, 
And Pumpkins 'neath the window climb. 
And where I often, when a child, for hours 
Tried through the pales to get the tempting flowers. 
As Lady's Laces, everlasting Peas, 
True-love-lies-bleeding, with the Hearts-at-ease 
And Goldenrods, and Tansy running high. 
That o'er the pale tops smiled on passers by." 

A curious old seventeenth-century poet was the 
Jesuit, Rene Rapin. The copy of his poem en- 
titled Gardens which I have seen, is the one in my 
daughter's collection of garden books; it was " Eng- 
lish'd by the Ingenious Mr. Gardiner," and pub- 
lished in 1728. Hallam in his Introduction to the 
Literature of Europe gives a capital estimate of this 
long poem of over three thousand lines. I find 
them pretty dull reading, with much monotony of 
adjectives, and very affected notions for plant names. 
I fancy he manufactured all his tedious plant tradi- 
tions himself. 



Old Time Gardens 



A pleasing little book entitled Dante's Garden 
has collected evidence, from his writings, of Dante's 
love of green, growing things. The title is rather 
strained, since he rarely names individual flowers, 
and only refers vaguely to their emblematic signifi- 
cance. I would have entitled the book Dante' s Forest, 
since he chieflv refers to trees ; and the Italian gar- 
den s of his 
days were of 
trees rather 
than flowers. 
There are pas- 
sages in his 
writings which 
have led some 
of his worship- 
pers to believe 
that his child- 
hoodwaspassed 
in a garden ; 
but these refer- 
ences are very 
indeterminate. 
The picture 
of a deserted 
garden, with its sad sentiment has charmed the fancy 
of many a poet. Hood, a true flower-lover, wrote 
this jingle in his Haunted House : — 

"The Marigold amidst the nettles blew, 

The Gourd embrac'd the Rose bush in its ramble. 
The Thistle and the Stock together grew. 
The Hollyhock and Bramble. 




rden ol Mary Washington. 



Gardens of the Poets 229 

'* The Bearbine with the Lilac interlaced. 

The sturdy Burdock choked its tender neighbor. 
The spicy Pink. All tokens were effaced 
Of human care and labor." 

These lines are a great contrast to the dignified 
versification of The Old Garden, by Margaret De- 
land, a garden around which a great city has grown. 

" Around it is the street, a restless arm 

That clasps the country to the city's heart." 

No one could read this poem without knowing that 
the author is a true garden lover, and knowing as 
well that she spent her childhood in a garden. 

Another American poet, Edith Thomas, writes 
exquisitely of old gardens and garden flowers. 

'*The pensile Lilacs still their favors throw. 
The Star of Lilies, plenteous long ago, 
Waits on the summer dusk, and faileth not. 
The legions of the grass in vain would blot 
The spicy Box that marks the garden row. 
Let but the ground some human tendance know. 
It long remaineth an engentled spot." 

Let me for a moment, through the suggestion of 
her last two lines, write of the impress left on nature 
through flower planting. " The garden long re- 
maineth an engentled spot." You cannot for years 
stamp out the mark of a garden ; intentional destruc- 
tion may obliterate the garden borders, but neglect 
never. The delicate flowers die, but some sturdy 
things spring up happily and seem gifted with ever- 
lasting life. Fifteen years ago a friend bought an 
old country seat on Long Island ; near the site of 



230 Old Time Gardens 

the new house, an old garden was ploughed deep and 
levelled to a lawn. Every year since then the patient 
gardeners pull up, on this lawn, in considerable 
numbers. Mallows, Campanulas, Star of Bethlehem, 
Bouncing-bets and innumerable Asparagus shoots, 
and occasionally the seedlings of other flowers which 
have bided their time in the dark earth. Traces 
of the residence of Sir Walter Raleigh in Ireland 
may still be seen in the growth of richly per- 
fumed wall-flowers which he brought from the 
Azores. The Afl-'ane Cherry is found where he 
planted it, and some of his Cedars are living. The 
summer-house of Yew trees sheltered him when he 
smoked in the garden, and in this garden he planted 
Tobacco, Near by is the famous spot where he 
planted what were then called Virginian Potatoes. 
By that planting they acquired the name of Irish 
Potatoes. 

I have spoken of the Prince Nurseries in Flush- 
ing ; the old nurserymen left a more lasting mark 
than their Nurseries, in the rare trees and plants now 
found on the roads-, and in the fields and gardens 
for many miles around Flushing. With the Parsons 
family, who have been, since 1838, distributors 
of unusual plants, especially the splendid garden 
treasures from China and Japan, they have made 
Flushing a delightful nature-study. 

In the humblest dooryard, and by the wayside in 
outlying parts of the town, mav be seen rare and 
beautiful old trees : a giant purple Beech is in a la- 
borer's yard ; fine Cedars, Salisburias, red-flowered 
Horse-chestnuts, Japanese flowering Quinces and 



Gardens of tlie Poets 



231 



Cherries, and even rare Japanese Maples are to be 
found ; a few survivors of the Chinese Mulberry 
have a romantic interest as mementoes of a giant 
bubble of ruin. The largest Scotch Laburnum I 
ever saw, glorious in golden bloom, is behind an 
unkempt house. On the Parsons estate is a weep- 
ing Beech of unusual size. Its branches trail on 




Box and Phlox. 



the ground in a vast circumference of 222 feet, 
forming a great natural arbor. The beautiful vernal 
light in this tree bower may be described in Andrew 
Marvell's words : — 

" Annihilating all that's made 

To a green thought in a green shade." 

The photograph of it, shown opposite page 232, 
gives some scant idea of its leafy walls ; it has been 
for years the fit trysting-place of lovers, as is shown 
by the initials carved on the great trunk. Great 



232 Old Time Gardens 

Judas trees, sadly broken yet bravely blooming ; 
decayed hedges of several kinds of Lilacs, Syringas, 
Snowballs, and Yuccas of princely size and bearing 
still linger. Everywhere are remnants of Box hedges. 
One unkempt dooryard of an old Dutch farm-house 
was glorified with a broad double row of yellow Lily 
at least sixty feet in length. Everywhere is Wistaria, 
on porches, fences, houses, and trees ; the abundant 
Dogwood trees are often overgrown with Wistaria. 
The most exquisite sight of the floral year was the 
largest Dogwood tree I have ever seen, radiant with 
starry white bloom, and hung to the tip of every 
white-flowered branch with the drooping amethystine 
racemes of Wistaria of equal luxuriance. Golden- 
yellow Laburnum blooms were in one case mingled 
with both purple and wnite Wistaria. These yellow, 
purple, and white blooms of similar shape were a 
curious sight, as if a single plant had been grafted. 
As I rode past so many glimpses of loveliness min- 
gled with so much present squalor, I could but think 
of words of the old hymn : — 

" Where every prospect pleases 
And only man is vile." 

Could the hedges, trees, and vines which came 
from the Prince and Parsons Nurseries have been 
cared for, northeastern Long Island, which is part 
of the city of Greater New York, would still be what 
it was named bv the early explorers, " The Pearl of 
New Netherland." 




Within the Weeping Beech, 



CHAPTER X 



THE CHARM OF COLOR 




** How strange are the freaks of memory. 
The lessons of life we forget. 
While a trifle, a trick of color. 
In the wonderful web is set." 

— James Russell Lowell. 

HE quality of charm in color is 
most subtle ; it is like the human 
attribute known as fascination, 
" whereof," says old Cotton 
Mather, " men have more Ex- 
perience than Comprehension." 
Certainly some alliance of color with a form suited 
or wonted to it is necessary to produce a gratifica- 
tion of the senses. Thus in the leaves of plants 
every shade of green is pleasing ; then why is there 
no charm in a green flower? The green of Migno- 
nette bloom would scarcely be deemed beautiful 
were it not for our association of it with the deli- 
cious fragrance. White is the absence of color. In 
flowers a pure chalk-white, and a snow-white (which 
is bluish) is often found ; but more frequently the 
white flower blushes a little, or is warmed with 
yellow, or has green veins. 

Where green runs into the petals of a white 
flower, its beauty hangs by a slender thread. If 

233 



234 



Old Time Gardens 



the green lines have any significance, as have the 
faint green checkerings of the Fritillary, which I 
have described elsewhere in this book, they add 
to its interest ; but ordinarily they make the petals 
seem undeveloped. The Snowdrop bears the mark 
of one of the few tints of green which we like in 
white flowers; its "heart-shaped seal of green," 




Spring Sncwflake. 

sung by Rossetti, has been noted by many other 
poets. Tennyson wrote: — 

** Pure as lines of green that streak the white 
Of the first Snowdrop's inner leaves." 

A cousin of the Snowdrop, is the " Spring Snow- 
flake " or Leucojum, called also by New England 
country folk " High Snowdrop." It bears at the 
end of each snowy petal a tiny exact spot of green ; 



The Charm of Color 235 

and I think it must have been the flower sung by 
Leigh Hunt : — 

" The nice-]eaved lesser Lilies, 
Shading like detected light 
Their little green-tipt lamps of white." 

The illustration on page 234 shows the graceful 
growth of the flower and its exquisitely precise little 
green-dotted petals, but it has not caught its lumin- 
ous whiteness, which seems almost of phosphores- 
cent brightness in each little flower. 

The Star of Bethlehem is a plant in which the 
white and green of the leaf is curiously repeated in 
the flower. Gardeners seldom admit this flower 
now to their gardens, it so quickly crowds out every- 
thing else ; it has become on Long Island nothing 
but a weed. The high-growing Star of Bethlehem 
is a pretty thing. A bed of it in my sister's garden 
is shown on page 237. 

It is curious that when all agree that green flowers 
have no beauty and scant charm, that a green flower 
should have been one of the best-loved flowers of 
my home garden. But this love does not come 
from any thought of the color or beauty of the 
flower, but from association. It was my mother's 
favorite, hence it is mine. It was her favorite be- 
cause she loved its clear, pure, spicy fragrance. This 
ever present and ever welcome scent which pervades 
the entire garden if leaf or flower of the loved 
Ambrosia be crushed, is curious and characteristic, 
a true " ambrosiack odor," to use Ben Jonson's 
words. 



236 Old Time Gardens 

A vivid description of Ambrosia is that of 
Gerarde in his delightful llcrbaU. 

" C)kc of Jerusalem, or Hotrvs, hath suiuhv small stems 
a foote ami a halfe high dividing themselves into many 
small branches. The leafc very much resembling the leafe 
of an Okc, which hath caused our English women to call 
it Okc of Jerusalem. The upper side of the leafe is a 
deepe greene and somewhat rough and hairy, hut under- 
neath it is of a darke reddish or purple colour. The seedie 
floures grow clustering about the branches like the yong 
clusters or blowings of the Vine. The roote is small and 
thriddy. The whole herbe is of a pleasant smell and 
savour, and the whole plant dieth when the seed is ripe. 
Oke of Jerusalem is of di\ ers called Ambrosia." 

Ambrosia has been loved for many centuries by 
Englishwomen ; it is in the first English list of 
names ot plants, which was made in 1548 by one 
Dr. Turner; and in this list it is called " Ambrose." 
He says of it : — 

" Botrvs is called in englishe, Oke of Hierusalem, in 
duche, trauben kraute, in french pijmen. It groweth in 
gardines muche in England." 

Ambrosia has now died out "in gardines muche 
in England." I have had manv letters from Eng- 
lish flower lovers telling me they know it not ; and 
I have had the pleasure of sendincr the seeds to 
several old English and Scotch gardens, where I 
hope it will once more grow and flourish, for I am 
sure it must feel at home. 



The Charm of Color 



237 



The seeds of this beloved Ambrosia, which filled 
my mother's garden in every spot in which it 
could spring, and which overflowed with cheerful 
welcome into the gardens of our neighbors, was 
given her from the garden of a great-aunt in Wal- 
pole, New Hampshire. This Walpole garden was 



Uj 




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Star of Bethlehem. 



a famous gathering of old-time favorites, and it had 
the delightful companionship of a wild garden. On 
a series of terraces with shelving banks, which reached 
down to a stream, the boys of the family planted, 
seventy years ago, a myriad of wild flowers, shrubs, 
and trees, from the neighboring woods. By the side 
of the garden great Elm trees sheltered scores of 
beautiful gray squirrels ; and behind the house and 



238 



Old Time Gardens 



garden an orchard led to the wheat fields, which 
stretched down to the broad Connecticut River. All 
flowers thrived there, both in the Box-bordered beds 
and in the wild garden, perhaps because the morning 
mists from the river helped out the heavy buckets 
of water from the well during the hot summer 




The Pearl.' 



weeks. Even in winter the wild garden was beauti- 
ful from the brilliant Bittersweet which hung from 
every tree. 

Here Ambrosia was plentiful, but is plentiful no 
longer; and Walpole garden lovers seek seeds of 
it from the Worcester garden. I think it dies out 
generally when all the weeding and garden care is 
done by gardeners ; they assume that the little 



The Charm of Color 239 

plants of such modest bearing are weeds, and pull 
them up, with many other precious seedlings of 
the old garden, in their desire to have ample expanse 
of naked dirt. One of the charms which was per- 
mitted to the old garden was its fulness. Nature 
there certainly abhorred a vacant space. The garden 
soil was full of resources ; it had a seed for every 
square inch ; it seemed to have a reserve store ready 
to crowd into any space offered by the removal or 
dying down of a plant at any time. 

Let me tell of a curious thing I found in an old 
book, anent our subject — green flowers. It shows 
that we must not accuse our modern sensation 
lovers, either in botany or any other science, of 
being the only ones to add artifice to nature. The 
green Carnation has been chosen to typify the 
decadence and monstrosity of the end of the nine- 
teenth century ; but nearly two hundred years ago 
a London fruit and flower grower, named Richard 
Bradley, wrote a treatise upon field husbandry and 
garden culture, and in it he tells of a green Carna- 
tion which "a certayn fryar" produced by grafting 
a Carnation upon a Fennel stalk. The flowers 
were green for several years, then nature overcame 
decadent art. 

There be those who are so enamoured of the color 
green and of foliage, that they care little for flowers 
of varied tint; even in a garden, like the old poet 
Marvell, they deem, — 

•*No white nor red was ever seen 
So amorous as this lovely green." 



240 Old Time Gardens 

Such folk could scarce find content in an Ameri- 
can garden ; for our American gardeners must con- 
fess, with Shakespeare's clown : " I am no great 
Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in grass." 
Our lawns are not old enough. 

A charming greenery of old English gardens was 
the bowling-green. We once had them in our colo- 
nies, as the name of a street in our greatest city now 
proves ; and I deem them a garden fashion well-to- 
be-revived. 

The laws of color preference differ with the size 
of expanses. Our broad fields often have pleasing 
expanses of leafiige other than green, and flowers 
that are as all-pervading as foliage. Many flowers 
of the field have their day, when each seems to be 
queen, a short day, but its rights none dispute. 
Snow of Daisies, yellow of Dandelions, gold of But- 
tercups, purple pinkness of Clover, Innocence, Blue- 
eyed Grass, Milkweed, none reign more absolutely 
in every inch of the fields than that poverty stricken 
creature, the Sorrel. William Morris warns us that 
" flowers in masses are mighty strong color," and must 
be used with much caution in a garden. But there 
need be no fear of massed color in a field, as being 
ever gaudy or cloying. An approach to the beauty 
and satisfaction of nature's plentiful field mav be 
artificially obtained as an adjunct to the garden in a 
flower-close sown or set with a solid expanse of 
bloom of some native or widely adopted plant. I 
have seen a flower-close of Daisies, another of But- 
tercups, one of Larkspur, one of Coreopsis. A 
new field tint, and a splendid one, has been given to 



The Charm of Color 241 

us within a few years, by the introduction of the 
vivid red of ItaHan clover. It is eagerly welcomed 
to our fields, so scant of scarlet. This clover was 
brought to America in the years 1824 et seq.^ and is 
described in contemporary publications in alluring 
sentences. I have noted the introduction of several 
vegetables, grains, fruits, berries, shrubs, and flowers 
in those years, and attribute this to the influence of 
the visit of Lafayette in 1824. Adored by all, his 
lightest word was heeded ; and he was a devoted 
agriculturist and horticulturist, ever exchanging ideas, 
seeds, and plants with his American fellow-patriots 
and fellow-farmers. I doubt if Italian clover then 
became widely known ; but our modern farmers now 
think well of it, and the flower lover revels in it. 

The exigencies of rhyme and rhythm force us to 
endure some very curious notions of color in the 
poets. I think no saying of poet ever gave greater 
check to her lovers than these lines of Emily Dick- 
inson : — 

" Nature rarer uses yellow 

Than another hue ; 
Saves she all of that for sunsets. 

Prodigal of blue. 
Spending scarlet like a woman. 

Yellow she affords 
Only scantly and selectly. 

Like a lover's words." 

I read them first with a sense of misapprehension 
that I had not seen aright ; but there the words 
stood out, " Nature rarer uses yellow than another 
hue." The writer was such a jester, such a tricky 



242 



Old Time Gardens 




Pyrethrum. 



elf that I fancy she wrote them in pure "contrari- 
ness," just to see what folks would say, how they 
would dispute over her words. For I never can 
doubt that, with all her recluse life, she knew intui- 
tively that some time her lines would be read by 
folks who would love them. 

The scarcity of red wild flowers is either a cause 



The Charm of Color 243 

or an effect; at any rate it is said to be connected 
with the small number of humming-birds, who play 
an important part in the fertilization of many of the 
red flowers. There are no humming-birds in 
Europe; and the Aquilegia, red and yellow here, 
is blue there, and is then fertilized by the assist- 
ance of the bumblebee. Without humming-birds the 
English successfully accomplish one glorious sweep 
of red in the Poppies of the field ; Parkinson 
called them "a beautiful and gallant red" — a very 
happy phrase. Ruskin, that master of color and of 
its description, and above all master of the descrip- 
tion of Poppies, says : — 

" The Poppy is the most transparent and delicate of all 
the blossoms of the field. The rest, nearly all of them, 
depend on the texture of their surface for color. But the 
Poppy is painted glass; it never glows so brightly as when 
the sun shines through it. Whenever it is seen, against the 
light or with the light, it is a flame, and warms the wind 
like a blown ruby." 

There is one quality of the Oriental Poppies 
which is very palpable to me. They have often 
been called insolent — Browning writes of the 
" Poppy's red aflrontery " ; to me the Poppy has 
an angry look. It is wonderfully haughty too, and 
its seed-pod seems like an emblem of its rank. 
This great green seed-pod stands one inch high 
in the centre of the silken scarlet robe, and has an 
antique crown of purple bands with filling of lilac, 
just like the crown in some ancient kingly portraits, 
when the bands of gold and gems radiating from a 



244 Old Time Gardens 

great jewel in the centre are filled with crimson or 
purple velvet. Around this splendid crowned seed- 
vessel are rows of stamens and purple anthers of 
richest hue. 

We must not let any scarlet flower be dropped 
from the garden, certainly not the Geranium, which 
just at present does not shine so bravely as a few 
years ago. The general revulsion of feeling against 
" bedding out " has extended to the poor plants 
thus misused, which is unjust. I find I have 
spoken somewhat despitefully of the Coleus, Lo- 
belia, and Calceolaria, so I hasten to say that 1 do 
not include the Geranium with them. I love its 
clean color, in leaf and blossom ; its clean fragrance ; 
its clean beauty, its healthy growth ; it is a plant I 
like to have near me. 

It has been the custom of late to sneer at crimson 
in the garden, especially if its vivid color gets a 
dash of purple and becomes what Miss Jekyll calls 
" malignant magenta." It is really more vulgar 
than malignant, and has come to be in textile prod- 
ucts a stamp and symbol of vulgarity, through the 
forceful brilliancy of our modern aniline dyes. But 
this purple crimson, this amarant, this magenta, 
especially in the lighter shades, is a favorite color in 
nature. The garden is never weary of wearing it. 
See how it stands out in midsummer ! It is rank 
in Ragged Robin, tall Phlox, and Petunias ; you 
find it in the bed of Drummond Phlox, among the 
Zinnias ; the Portulacas, Balsams, and China Asters 
prolong it. Earlier in the summer the Rhododen- 
drons fill the garden with color that on some of the 



The Charm of Color 245 

bushes is termed sultana and crimson, but it is in 
fact plain magenta. One of the good points of 
the Peony is that you never saw a magenta one. 

This color shows that time as well as place affects 
our color notions, for magenta is believed to be the 
honored royal purple of the ancients. Fifty years 
ago no one complained of magenta. It was deemed 
a cheerful color, and was set out boldly and com- 
placently by the side of pink or scarlet, or wall 
flower colors. Now I dislike it so that really the 
printed word, seen often as I glance back through 
this page, makes the black and white look cheap. 
If I could turn all magenta flowers pink or purple, 
I should never think further about garden harmonv, 
all other colors would adjust themselves. 

It has been the fortune of some communities to 
be the home of men in nature like Thoreau of Con- 
cord and Gilbert White of Selborne, men who live 
solely in love of out-door things, birds, flowers, rocks, 
and trees. To all these nature lovers is not given 
the power of writing down readily what they see and 
know, usually the gift of composition is denied them ; 
but often they are just as close and accurate observers 
as the men whose names are known to the world by 
their writings. Sometimes these naturalists boldly 
turn to nature, their loved mother, and earn their 
living in the woods and fields. Sometimes they have 
a touch of the hermit in them, they prefer nature to 
man; others are genial, kindly men, albeit possessed 
of a certain reserve. I deem the community blest 
that has such a citizen, for his influence in promoting 
a love and study of nature is ever great. I have 



246 



Old Time Gardens 



known one such ardent naturalist, Arba Peirce, ever 
since my childhood. He lives the greater part of 




Terraced Garden of Misses Nichols. Salem, Mas 



his waking hours in the woods and fields, and these 

From the earliest 



waking hours are from sunrise 



The Charm of Color 247 

bloom of spring to the gay berry of autumn, he knows 
all beautiful things that grow, and where they grow, 
for hundreds of miles around his home. 

I speak of him in this connection because he has 
acquired through his woodland life a wonderful 
power of distinguishing flowers at great distance 
with absolute accuracy. Especially do his eyes have 
the power of detecting those rose-lilac tints which 
are characteristic of our rarest, our most delicate wild 
flowers, and which I always designate to myself as 
Arethusa color. He brought me this June a royal 
gift — a great bunch of wild fringed Orchids, another 
of Calopogon, and one of Arethusa. What a color 
study these three made ! At the time their lilac- 
rose tints seemed to me far lovelier than any pure 
rose colors. In those wild princesses were found 
every tone of that lilac-rose from the faint blush 
like the clouds of a warm sunset, to a glow on the lip 
of the Arethusa, like the crimson glow of Mullein 
Pink. 

My friend of the meadow and wildwood had 
gathered that morning a glorious harvest, over two 
thousand stems of Pogonia, from his own hidden 
spot, which he has known for forty years and from 
whence no other hand ever gathers. For a little 
handful of these flower heads he easily obtains a 
dollar. He has acquired gradually a regular round 
of customers, for whom he gathers a successive har- 
vest of wild flowers from Pussy Willows and Hepat- 
ica to winter berries. It is not easily earned money 
to stand in heavy rubber boots in marsh mud and 
water reaching nearly to the waist, but after all 



248 Old Time Gardens 

it is happy work. Jeered at in his early life by 
fools for his wood-roving tastes, he has now the 
pleasure and honor of supplying wild flowers to 
our public schools, and being the authority to whom 
scholars and teachers refer in vexed questions of 
botany. 

I think the various tints allied to purple are the 
most difficult to define and describe of any in the 
garden. To begin with, all these pinky-purple, 
these arethusa tints are nameless ; perhaps orchid 
color is as good a name as any. Many deem purple 
and violet precisely the same. Lavender has much 
gray in its tint. Miss Jekyll deems mauve and 
lilac the same ; to me lilac is much pinker, much 
more delicate. Is heliotrope a pale bluish purple ? 
Some call it a blue faintly tinged with red. Then 
there are the orchid tints, which have more pink 
than blue. It is a curious fact that, with all these 
allied tints which come from the union of blue 
with red, the color name comes from a flower 
name. Violet, lavender, lilac, heliotrope, orchid, 
are examples ; each is an exact tint. Rose and 
pink are color names from flowers, and flowers 
of much variety of colors, but the tint name is 
unvarying. 

Edward de Goncourt, of all writers on flowers and 
gardens, seems to have been most frankly pleased 
with the artificial side of the gardener's art. He 
viewed the garden with the eye of a colorist, setting 
a palette of varied greens from the deep tones of the 
evergreens, the Junipers and Cryptomerias through 
the variegated Hollies, Privets and Spindle trees ; 



The Charm of Color 249 

and he said that an " elegantly branched coquet- 
tishly variegated bush " seemed to him like a piece 
of bric-a-brac which should be hunted out and 
praised like some curio hidden on the shelf of a 
collector. 

A lack of color perception seems to have been 
prevalent of ancient days, as it is now in some 
Oriental countries. The Bible offers evidence of 
this, and it has also been observed that the fra- 
grance of flowers is nowhere noted until we reach the 
Song of Solomon. It is believed that in earliest 
time archaic men had no sense of color ; that they 
knew only light and darkness. Mr. Gladstone wrote 
a most interesting paper on the lack of color sense in 
Homer, whose perception of brilliant light was 
good, especially in the glowing reflections of metals, 
but who never names blue or green even in speak- 
ing of the sky, or trees, while his reds and purples 
are hopelessly mixed. Some German scientists have 
maintained that as recently as Homer's day, our 
ancestors were (to use Sir John Lubbock's word) 
blue-blind, which fills me, as it must all blue lovers, 
with profound pity. 

The influence of color has ever been felt by other 
senses than that of sight. In the Cotton Manuscripts, 
written six hundred years ago, the relations and ef- 
fects of color on music and coat-armor were labori- 
ously explained : and many later writers have striven 
to show the effect of color on the health, imagination, 
or fortune. I see no reason for sneering at these 
notions of sense-relation ; I am grateful for borrowed 
terms of definition for these beautiful things which 



250 



Old Time Gardens 



are so hard to define. When an artist says to me, 
"There is a color that sings," I know what he 
means ; as I do when my friend says of the funeral 
music in Tristan that " it always hurts her eyes." 
Musicians compose symphonies in color, and artists 
paint pictures in symphonies. Musicians and authors 



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Arbor in a Salem Garden. 



acknowledge the domination of color and color 
terms ; a glance at a modern book catalogue will 
prove it. Stephen Crane and other modern extrem- 
ists depend upon color to . define and describe 
sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, ideas, vices, virtues, 
traits, as well as sights. Sulphur-yellow is deemed 



The Charm of Color 251 

an inspiring color, and light green a clean color; 
every one knows the influence of bright red upon 
many animals and birds ; it is said all barnyard 
fowl are affected by it. If any one can see a sunny 
bed of blue Larkspur in full bloom without being 
moved thereby, he must be color blind and sound 
deaf as well, for that indeed is a sight full of music 
and noble inspiration, a realization of Keats' beau- 
tiful thought : — 

'• Delicious symphonies, like airy flowers 
Budded, and swell'd, and full-blown, shed full showers 
Of light, soft unseen leaves of sound divine." 



CHAPTER XI 



THE BLUE FLOWER BORDER 



" Blue thou art, intensely blue ! 

Flower ! whence came thy dazzling hue ? 
When I opened first mine eye. 
Upward glancing to the sky. 
Straightway from the firmament 
Was the sapphire brilliance sent." 

— James Montgomery. 

UESTIONS of color relations in 
a garden are most opinion-mak- 
ing and controversy-provoking. 
Shall we plant by chance, or by a 
flower-loving instinct for shel- 
tered and suited locations, as was 
done in all old-time gardens, and 
with most happy and most un- 
affected results ? or shall we plant severely by col- 
ors — all yellow flowers in a border together.'' all 
red flowers side by side ? all pink flowers near each 
other ? This might be satisfactory in small gardens, 
but I am uncertain whether any profound gratifi- 
cation or full flower succession would come from 
such rigid planting in long flower borders. 

William Morris warns us that flowers in masses 
are " mighty strong color," and must be used with 
caution. A still greater cause for hesitation would 

252 




The Blue Flower Border 253 

be the ugly jarring of juxtaposing tints of the same 
color. Yellows do little injury to each other ; but 
I cannot believe that a mixed border of red flowers 
would ever be satisfactory or scarcely endurable; 
and few persons would care for beds of all white 
flowers. But when I reach the Blue Border, then I 
can speak with decision ; I know whereof I write, 
I know the variety and beauty of a garden bed of 
blue flowers. In blue you may have much differ- 
ence in tint and quality without losing color effect. 
The Persian art workers have accomplished the 
combining of varying blues most wonderfully and 
successfully : purplish blues next to green-blues, 
and sapphire-blues alongside ; and blues seldom 
clash in the flower beds. 

Blue is my best beloved color; I love it as the 
bees love it. Every blue flower is mine ; and 1 am 
as pleased as with a tribute of praise to a friend to 
learn that scientists have proved that blue flowers 
represent the most highly developed lines of 
descent. These learned men believe that all 
flowers were at first yellow, being perhaps only 
developed stamens ; then some became white, 
others red; while the purple and blue were the 
latest and highest forms. The simplest shaped 
flowers, open to be visited by every insect, are still 
yellow or white, running into red or pink. Thus 
the Rose family have simple open symmetrical 
flowers ; and there are no blue Roses — the flower 
has never risen to the blue stage. In the Pea 
family the simpler flowers are yellow or red ; while 
the highly evolved members, such as Lupines, 



254 



Old Time Gardens 



Wistaria, Everlasting Pea, are purple or blue, vary- 
ing to white. Bees are among the highest forms of 
insect life, and the labiate flowers are adapted to 
their visits ; these nearly all have purple or blue 
petals — Thyme, Sage, Mint, Marjoram, Basil, 
Prunella, etc. 

Of course the Blue Border runs into tints of pale 
lilac and purple and is thereby the gainer; but I 




Scilla. 



would remove from it the purple Clematis, Wistaria, 
and Passion-flower, all of which a friend has planted 
to cover the wall behind her blue flower bed. Some- 
times the line between blue and purple is hard to 
define. Keats invented a word, purplue, which he 
used for this indeterminate color. 

I would not, in my Blue Border, exclude an occa- 
sional group of flowers of other colors ; I love a 



The Blue Flower Border 255 

border of all colors far too well to do that. Here, 
as everywhere in my garden, should be white flowers, 
especially tall white flowers : white Foxgloves, white 
Delphinium, white Lupine, white Hollyhock, white 
Bell-flower, nor should I object to a few spires at 
one end of the bed of sulphur-yellow Lupines, or 
yellow Hollyhocks, or a group of Paris Daisies. 
1 have seen a great Oriental Poppy growing in 
wonderful beauty near a mass of pale blue Lark- 
spur, and Shirley Poppies are a delight with blues ; 
and any one could arrange the pompadour tints of 
pink and blue in a garden who could in a gown. 

Let me name some of the favorites of the Blue 
Border. The earliest but not the eldest is the pretty 
spicy Scilla in several varieties, and most satisfactory 
it is in perfection of tint, length of bloom, and great 
hardiness. It would be welcomed as we eagerly 
greet all the early spring blooms, even if it were 
not the perfect little blossom that is pictured on 
page 254, the very little Scilla that grew in my 
mother's garden. 

The early spring blooming of the beloved Grape 
Hyacinth gives us an overflowing bowl of " blue 
principle"; the whole plant is imbued and fairly 
exudes blue. Ruskin gave the beautiful and 
appropriate term " blue-flushing " to this plant and 
others, which at the time of their blossoming send 
out through their veins their blue color into the 
surrounding leaves and the stem ; he says they 
"breathe out" their color, and tells of a "saturated 
purple " tint. 

Not content with the confines of the garden 



256 Old Time Gardens 

border, the Grape Hyacinth has " escaped the 
garden," and become a field flower. The " seeing 
eye," ever quick to feel a difference in shade or 




Sweet Alyssum Edging. 



color, which often proves very slight upon close 
examination, viewed on Long Island a splendid sea 
of blue ; and it seemed neither the time nor tint for 



The Blue Flower Border 257 

the expected Violet. We found it a field of Grape 
Hyacinth, blue of leaf, of stem, of flower. While 
all flowers are in a sense perfect, some certainly do 
not appear so in shape, among the latter those of 
irregular sepals. Some flowers seem imperfect with- 
out any cause save the fancy of the one who is 
regarding them ; thus to me the Balsam is an imper- 
fect flower. Other flowers impress me delightfully 
with a sense of perfection. Such is the Grape 
Hyacinth, doubly grateful in this perfection in the 
time it comes in early spring. The Grape Hyacinth 
is the favorite spring flower of my garden — but no ! 
I thought a minute ago the Scilla was ! and what 
place has the Violet ? the Flower de Luce ? I can- 
not decide, but this I know — it is some blue flower. 

Ruskin says of the Grape Hyacinth, as he saw 
it growing in southern France, its native home, " It 
was as if a cluster of grapes and a hive of honey 
had been distilled and pressed together into one 
small boss of celled and beaded blue." I always 
think of his term " beaded blue " when I look at it. 
There are several varieties, from a deep blue or pur- 
ple to sky-blue, and one is fringed with the most 
delicate feathery petals. Some varieties have a faint 
perfume, and country folk call the flower " Baby's 
Breath " therefrom. 

Purely blue, too, are some of our garden Hya- 
cinths, especially a rather meagre single Hyacinth 
which looks a little chilly; and Gavin Douglas wrote 
in the springtime of 1500, "The Flower de Luce 
forth spread his heavenly blue." It always jars 
upon my sense of appropriateness to hear this old 



258 



Old Time Gardens 



garden favorite called Kleur de Lis. The accepted 
derivation of the word is that given by Grandmaison 
in his Heraldic Dictionary. Louis VI L of France, 
whose name was then written Loys, first gave the 
name to the flower, " Fleur de Loys " ; then it be- 
came Fleur de Louis, and finally, Fleur de Lis. 
Our flower caught its name from Louis. Tusser in 




fVTScfiWr, ..^WWKI^ ''" -t. > (-*'',1 



HBiiitt 




Bachelor's Buttons in a Salem Garden. 



his list of flowers for windows and pots gave plainly 
Flower de Luce ; and finally Gerarde called the 
plant Flower de Luce, and he advised its use as a 
domestic remedy in a manner which is in vogue 
in country homes in New Fngland to-day. He 
said that the root "stamped plaister-wise, doth take 
away the blewnesse or blacknesse of any stroke " 
that is, a black and blue bruise. Another use 



The Blue Flower Border 259 

advised of him is as obsolete as the form in which 
it was rendered. He said it was " good in a loch 
or licking medicine for shortness of breath." Our 
apothecaries no longer make, nor do our physicians 
prescribe, " licking medicines." The powdered root 
was urged as a complexion beautifier, especially to 
remove morphew, and as orris-root may be found 
in many of our modern skin lotions. 

Ruskin most beautifully describes the Flower de 
Luce as the flower of chivalry — "with a sword for 
its leaf, and a Lily for its heart." These grand 
clumps of erect old soldiers, with leafy swords of 
green and splendid cuirasses and plumes of gold 
and bronze and blue, were planted a century ago in 
our grandmothers' garden, and were then Flower 
de Luce. A hundred years those sturdy sentinels 
have stood guard on either side of the garden gates — 
still Flower de Luce. There are the same clean-cut 
leaf swords, the same exquisite blossoms, far more 
beautiful than our tropical Orchids, though similar 
in shape ; let us not change now their historic 
name, they still are Flower de Luce — the Flower 
de Louis. 

The Violet family, with its Pansies and Ladies' 
Delights, has honored place in our Blue Border, 
though the rigid color list of a prosaic practical dyer 
finds these Violet allies a debased purple instead of 
blue. 

Our wild Violets, the blue ones, have for me a 
sad lack for a Violet, that of perfume. They are 
not as lovely in the woodlands as their earlier com- 
ing neighbor, the shy, pure Hepatica. Bryant, call- 



26o OKI Time G:in.Icns 

ing the llcpatica Squin-clcuj\s (;i name I never 
heard L!;i\en them elsewhere), savs they torm "a 
graeetul eompanv hiding in their hells a soft aerial 
blue." Ot eourse, the\' \ar\ thrmigh blue ami 
pinky purple, hut the blue is well hitiden, and I 
never think ot" them save as an alnu^st white flcnver. 
Nor are the \'iolets as K)\el\ on the mead(.>w and 
field shapes, as the mild Innoeenee, the 1 loustonia, 
ealled alsn Hhiets, whieh is seareelv a distinetlv blue 
expanse, but rather ''a milkv wa\' t^t" minute stars." 
An iMiglish botanist lienies that it is blue at all. A 
field ec)\ered with Innoeenee al\\a\s looks to me as 
it little elouds and jnitrs ot' blue white snu)ke had 
deseended and rested on the grass. 

1 well reeall when the Aquilegia, under the name 
of California Columbine, entered mv mother's gar- 
den, to whieh its sister, the red and vellow Colum- 
bine, had been brought from a roekv New b'ngland 
pasture w hen the garden was new. This Aquilegia 
came to us about the year 1870. 1 presume old 
catalogues of' American florists would give details 
and dates of' the journey of the plant from the Pa- 
cific to the Atlantic. It chanced that this first Aqui- 
legia of my acquaintance was of a distinct light blue 
tint; and it grew apace and thrived and was vastly 
admired, and filled the border with blueness of 
that singular tint seen o{ late years in its f'uUest 
extent and most prominent position in the great 
masses of bloom of the blue Hydrangea, the show 
plant of such splendid summer homes as may be 
found at Newport. These blue Hydrangeas are 
ever to me a color blot. They accord with no other 




A "Sweet Garden-side" in Salem, Massachusetts. 



The Blue Klowcr Border 



261 



riower and no foliage. 1 am ever reminded of blue 
mould, of stale damp. I looked with inexpressible 
aversion on a photograph of Cecil Rhodes' garden 
at Cape Town — several solid acres set with this blue 
Hydrangea and 
nothing else, 
unbroken by 
tree or shrub, 
and scarce a 
path, growing 
as thick as a 
field sown with 
ensilage corn, 
and then I 
thought what 
would be the 
color of that 
mass! that crop 
of Hydrangeas! 
Yet I am told 
that Rhodes is 
a flower-lover 
and flower- 
thinker. Now 
this Aquilegia 
was of similar 
tint; it was 
blue, but it was not a pleasing blue, and additional 
plants of pink, lilac, and purple tints had to be 
added before the Aquilegia was really included in 
our list of well-beloveds. 

There are other flowers for the blue border. It 



%L 
























"' . % 




i4 




i 




9^-k-kt 

M. 



Salpiglossis. 



262 Old Time Gardens 

is pleasant to plant common Flax, if you have ample 
room ; it is a superb blue ; to many persons the 
blossom is unfamiliar, and is always of interest. Its 
lovely flowers have been much sung in English 
verse. The Salpiglossis, shown on the opposite 
page, is in its azure tint a lovely flower, though it is 
a kinsman of the despised Petunia. 

How the Campanulacese enriched the beauty and 
the blueness of the garden. We had our splendid 
clusters of Canterbury Bells, both blue and white. 
I have told elsewhere of our love for them in child- 
hood. Equally dear to us was a hardy old Campan- 
ula whose full name I know not, perhaps it is the 
Pyramidalis; it is shown on page 263, the very 
plant my mother set out, still growing and bloom- 
ing; nothing in the garden is more gladly welcomed 
from year to year. It partakes of the charm shared 
by every bell-shaped flower, a simple form, but an 
ever pleasing one. We had also the Campanula 
persicifoUa and trachelium^ and one we called Blue- 
bells of Scotland, which was not the correct name. 
It now has died out, and no one recalls enough of 
its exact detail to learn its real name. The showiest 
bell-flower was the Platycodon grandiflorum^ the Chi- 
nese or Japanese Bell-flower, shown on page 264. 
Another name is the Balloon-flower, this on account 
of the characteristic buds shaped like an inflated bal- 
loon. It is a lovely blue in tint, though this photo- 
graph was taken from a white-flowered plant in the 
white border at Indian Hill. The Giant Bell-flower 
is a fin de siecle blossom named Ostrowskia^ with 
flowers four inches deep and six inches in diameter; 



The Blue Flower Border 



26' 



it has not yet become common in our gardens, where 
the Platycodon rules in size among its bell-shaped 
fellows. 




The Old Campanula. 



There are several pretty low-growing blue flowers 
suitable for edgings, among them the tiny stars of 
the Swan River Daisy {Brachycome iberidifalid) sold 



264 



Old rime Gardens 



:is purple, but as brightlv blue as Scilla. Die 
dwarf Ageratum is also a long-blossoming soft-tinted 
blue flower ; it made a charmino; edging in mv 

sister's jjarden last sum- 




but I should 
put either of 



nier ; 

never 

them on the edge of 

the blue border. 

The dull blue, 
sparsely set flowers of 
the various members of 
the Mint tamilv have 
no beauty in color, nor 
anv noticeable elegance; 
the Blue Sage is the 
onlv vivid-hued one, 
and it is a true orna- 
nient to the border. 
Prunella was ever tound 
in old gardens, now it 
is a wavside weed. 
Thoreau loved the 
Prunella tor its blue- 
ness, its various lights, 
and noted that its color 
deepened toward night. 
This flower, regarded 
with indiflerence by 
nearlv everv one, and 
distaste by many, always 
to him sugffested coolness and freshness by its 
presence. The Prunella was beloved also by 



Chinese Bell-flower. 



'I'he Blue Mower Border 265 

Ruskin, who called it the soft warm-scented Bru- 
nelle, and told of the fine purple gleam of its hooded 
blossom : " the two uppermost petals joined like an 
old-fashioned enormous hood or bonnet; the lower 
petal torn deep at the edges into a kind of fringe," 
— and he said it was a " Brownie flower," a little 
eerie and elusive in its meaning, I do not like it 
because it has such a disorderly, unkempt look, it 
always seems bedraggled. 

The pretty ladder-like leaf of Jacob's Ladder is 
most delicate and pleasing in the garden, and its 
blue bell-flowers are equally refined. 1 his is truly 
an old-fashioned plant, but well worth universal 
cultivation. 

In answer to the question, What is the bluest 
flower in the garden or field? one answered Fringed 
Gentian ; another the Forget-me-not, which has 
much pink in its buds and yellow in its blossoms; 
another Bee Larkspur; and the others Centaurea 
cyanus or Bachelor's Buttons, a local American name 
for them, which is not even a standard folk name, 
since there are twenty-one English plants called 
Bachelor's Buttons. Ragged Sailor is another 
American name. Corn-flower, Blue-tops, Blue 
Bonnets, Bluebottles, Loggerheads are old English 
names. Queerer still is the title Break-your-spec- 
tacles. Hawdods is the oldest name of all. Fitz- 
herbert, in his Boke of Husbandry^ 15^6, thus 
describes briefly the plant : — 

" Hawdod hath a blewe floure, and a few Ivtle leaves, 
and hath fyve or syxe branches floured at the top." 



266 Old Time Gardens 

In varied shades of blue, purple, lilac, pink, and 
white, Bachelor's Buttons are found in every old 
garden, growing in a confused tangle of" lytle leaves " 
and vari-colored flowers, very happily and with very 
good efi^sct. The illustration on page 258 shows their 
growth and value in the garden. 

In The Promise of May Dora's eyes are said to be 
as blue as the Bluebell, Harebell, Speedwell, Blue- 
bottle, Succory, Forget-me-not, and Violets ; so we 
know what flowers Tennyson deemed blue. 

Another poet named as the bluest flower, the 
Monk's-hood, so wonderful of color, one of the 
very rarest of garden tints ; graceful of growth, 
blooming till frost, and one of the garden's delights. 
In a list of garden flowers published in Boston, in 
1828, it is called Cupid's Car. Southey says in 
The Doctor, of Miss Allison's garden : " The Monk's- 
hood of stately growth Betsey called ' Dumbledores 
DeHght,' and was not aware that the plant, in whose 
helmet- rather than cowl-shaped flowers, that busy 
and best-natured of all insects appears to revel more 
than any other, is the deadly Aconite of which she 
read in poetry." The dumbledore was the bumble- 
bee, and this folk name was given, as many others 
have been, from a close observance of plant habits ; 
for the fertilization of the Monk's-hood is accom- 
plished only by the aid of the bumblebee. 

Many call Chicory or Succory our bluest flower. 
Thoreau happily termed it "a cool blue." It is not 
often the fortune of a flower to be brought to notice 
and affection because of a poem ; we expect the 
poem to celebrate the virtues of flowers already 



The Blue Flower Border 267 

loved. The Succory is an example of a plant, 
known certainly to flower students, yet little 
thought of by careless observers until the beautiful 
poem of Margaret Deland touched all who read it. 
1 think this a gem of modern poesy, having in full 
that great element of a true poem, the most essen- 
tial element indeed of a short poem — the power 
of suggestion. Who can read it without being 
stirred by its tenderness and sentiment, yet how 
few are the words. 

" Oh, not in ladies' gardens. 

My peasant posy. 
Shine thy dear blue eyes ; 
Nor only - — nearer to the skies 

In upland pastures, dim and sweet. 
But by the dusty road. 

Where tired feet 
Toil to and fro. 

Where flaunting Sin 
May see thy heavenly hue. 

Or weary Sorrow look from thee 
Toward a tenderer blue." 

I recall perfectly every flower I saw in pasture, 
swamp, forest, or lane when I was a child ; and 1 
know I never saw Chicory save in old gardens. 
It has increased and spread wonderfully along the 
roadside within twenty years. By tradition it was 
first brought to us from England by Governor 
Bowdoin more than a century ago, to plant as 
forage. 

In our common Larkspur, the old-fashioned gar- 
den found its most constant and reliable blue ban- 



268 Old Time Gardens 

ner, its most valuable color giver. Self-sown, this 
Larkspur sprung up freely every year ; needing no 
special cherishing or nourishing, it grew apace, and 
bloomed with a luxuriance and length of flowering 
that cheerfully blued the garden for the whole sum- 
mer. It was a favorite of children in their floral 
games, and pretty in the housewife's vases, but its 
chief hold on favor was in its democracy and 
endurance. Other flowers drew admirers and lost 
them ; some grew very ugly in their decay ; certain 
choice seedlings often had stunted development, gar- 
den scourges attacked tender beauties ; fierce July 
suns dried up the whole border, all save the Lark- 
spur, which neither withered nor decayed ; and 
often, unaided, saved the midsummer garden from 
scanty unkemptness and dire disrepute. 

The graceful line of Dr. Holmes, "light as a 
loop of Larkspur," always comes to my mind as I 
look at a bed of Larkspur ; and I am glad to show 
here a " loop of Larkspur," growing by the great 
boulder which he loved in the grounds of his coun- 
try home at Beverly Farms. I liked to fancy that 
Dr. Holmes's expression was written by him from 
his memory of the little wreaths and garlands of 
pressed Larkspur that have been made so univer- 
sally for over a century by New England children. 
But that careful flower observer, Mrs. Wright, notes 
that in a profuse growth of the Bee Larkspur, the 
strong flower spikes often are in complete loops be- 
fore full expansion into a straight spire ; some are 
looped thrice. Dr. Holmes was a minute observer of 
floral characteristics, as is shown in his poem on the 



The Blue Flower Border 



269 




"Light as a Loop of Larkspur.' 



Coming of Springs and doubtless saw this curious 
growth of the Larkspur. 

Common annual Larkspurs now are planted 



270 Old Time Gardens 

in every one's garden, and deservedly grow in 
favor yearly. The season of their flowering can 
be prolonged, renewed in fact, by cutting away 
the withered flower stems. They respond well 
to all caretaking, to liberal fertilizing and water- 
ing, just as they dwindle miserably with neglect. 
There are a hundred varieties in all ; among 
them the " Rocket-flowered " and " Ranunculus 
flowered" Larkspurs or Delphiniums are ever 
favorites. A friend burst forth in railing at being 
asked to admire a bed of Delphinium. "Why can't 
she call them the good old-time name of Larkspur, 
and not a stiff name cooked up by the botanists." I 
answered naught, but I remembered that Parkinson 
in his Garden of Pleasant Flowers gives a chapter to 
Delphinium, with Lark's-heel as a second thought. 
" Their most usual name with us," he states, " is 
Delphinium." There is meaning in the name: the 
flower is dolphin-like in shape. Of the perennial 
va.nQt[GS the Delphinium brunonianum has lovely clear 
blue, musk-scentcd flowers ; the Chinese or Branch- 
ing Larkspur is of varied blue tints and tall growth, 
and blooms from midsummer until frost. And love- 
liest of all, an old garden favorite, the purely blue 
Bee Larkspur, with a bee in the heart of each 
blossom. In an ancient garden in Deerfield I saw 
this year a splendid group of plants of the old Del- 
phinium Belladonna : it is a weak-kneed, weak-backed 
thing ; but give it unobtrusive crutches and busks 
and backboards (in their garden equivalents), and its 
incomparable blue will reward your care. There is 
something singular in the blue of Larkspur. Even 



Ihe Blue Flower Border 271 

on a dark night you can see it showing a distinct 
blue in the garden like a blue lambent flame. 

" Larkspur lifting turquoise spires 
Bluer than the sorcerer's fires." 

Mrs. Milne-Home says her old Scotch gardener 
called the white Delphinium Elijah's Chariot — a 
resounding, stately title. Helmet-flower is another 
name. I think the Larkspur Border, and the Blue 
Border both gain if a few plants of the pure white 
Delphinium, especially the variety called the Em- 
peror, bloom by the blue flowers. In our garden 
the common blue Larkspur loves to blossom by 
the side of the white Phlox. A bit of the border is 
shown on page 162. In another corner of the gar- 
den the pink and lilac Larkspur should be grown ; 
for their tints, running into blue, are as varied as 
those of an opal. 

I have never seen the wild Larkspur which grows 
so plentifully in our middle Southern states ; but I 
have seen expanses of our common garden Lark- 
spur which has run wild. Nor have I seen the 
glorious fields of Wyoming Larkspur, so poisonous 
to cattle ; nor the magnificent Larkspur, eight feet 
high, described so radiantly to us by John Muir, 
which blues those wonders of nature, the hanging 
meadow gardens of California. 

I am inclined to believe that Lobelia is the least 
pleasing blue flower that blossoms. I never see it 
in any place or juxtaposition that it satisfies me. 
When you take a single flower of it in your hand, 
its single little delicate bloom is really just as pretty 



1'jl Old Time Gardens 

as Blue-eyed Grass, or Innocence, or Scilla, and the 
whole plant regarded closely by itself isn't at all bad ; 
but whenever and wherever you find it growing in 
a garden, you never want it in that place, and you 
shift it here and there. I am convinced that the 
Lobelia is simply impossible ; it is an alien, wrong in 
some subtle way in tint, in habit of growth, in time 
of blooming. The last time I noted it in any large 
garden planting, it was set around the roots of some 
standard Rose bushes ; and the gardener had dis- 
played some thought about it ; it was only at the 
base of white or cream-yellow Roses ; but it still 
was objectionable. I think I would exterminate 
Lobelia if I could, banish it and forget it. In the 
minds of many would linger a memory of certain 
ornate garden vases, each crowded with a Pandanus-y 
plant, a pink Begonia, a scarlet double Geranium, a 
purple Verbena or a crimson Petunia, all gracefully 
entwined with Nasturtiums and Lobelia — while 
these folks lived, the Lobelia would not be for- 
gotten. 

You will have some curious experiences with your 
Blue Border ; kindly friends, pleased with its beauty 
or novelty, will send to you plants and seeds to add 
to its variety of form '' another bright blue flower." 
You will usually find you have added variety of tint 
as well, ranging into crimson and deep purple, for 
color blindness is far more general than is thought. 

The loveliest blue flowers are the wild ones of 
fields and meadows ; therefore the poor, says Al- 
phonse Karr, with these and the blue of the sky 
have the best and the most of all blueness. Yet 



The Blue Flower Border 273 

we are constantly hearing folks speak of the lack 
of the color blue among wild flowers, which always 
surprises me ; I suppose I see blue because I love 
blue. In pure cobalt tint it is rare; in compensa- 
tion, when it does abound, it makes a permanent 
imprint on our vision, which never vanishes. Re- 
calling in midwinter the expanses of color in sum- 
mer waysides, I do not see them white with Daisies, 
or yellow with Goldenrod, but they are in my mind's 
vision brightly, beautifully blue. One special scene 
is the blue of Fringed Gentians, on a sunny October 
day, on a rocky hill road in Royalston, Massachu- 
setts, where they sprung up, wide open, a solid mass 
of blue, from stone wall to stone wall, with scarcely 
a wheel rut showing among them. Even thus, grow- 
ing in as lavish abundance as any weed, the Fringed 
Gentian still preserved in collective expanse, its deli- 
cate, its distinctly aristocratic bearing. 
Bryant asserts of this flower : — 

<'Thou waitest late, and com'st alone 

When woods are bare, and birds are flown." 

But by this roadside the woods were far from bare. 
Many Asters, especially the variety I call Michael- 
mas Daisies, Goldenrod, Butter-and-eggs, Turtle 
Head, and other flowers, were in ample bloom. 
And the same conditions of varied flower com- 
panionship existed when I saw the Fringed Gentian 
blooming near Bryant's own home at Cummington. 
Another vast field of blue, ever living in my 
memory, was that of the Viper's Bugloss, which I 



274 



Old Time Gardens 



viewed with surprise and delight from the platform of 
a train, returning from the Columbian Exposition ; 
when I asked a friendly brakeman what the flower 
was called, he answered " Vilets," as nearly all work- 

ino;men confi- 
dently name 
every blue 
flower ; and he 
sprang from the 
train while the 
locomotive was 
swallowing 
water, and 
brought to me 
a great armful 
of blueness. I 
am not wont 
to like new 
flowers as well 
as my child- 
hood's friends, 
but I found 
this new friend, 
the Viper's Bu- 
. gloss, a very 
,, • D 1 welcome and 

Viper s Bugloss. 

pleasing ac- 
quaintance. Curious, too, it is, with the red anthers 
exserted beyond the bright blue corolla, giving the 
field, when the wind blew across it, a new aspect 
and tint, something like a red and blue changeable 
silk. The Viper's Bugloss seems to have the perva- 




The Blue Flower Border 275 

sive power of many another blue and purple flower, 
Lupine, Iris, Innocence, Grape Hyacinth, Vervain, 
Aster, Spiked Loosestrife; it has become in many 
states a tiresome weed. On the Esopus Creek 
(which runs into the Hudson River) and adown the 
Hudson, acre after acre of meadow and field by the 
waterside are vivid with its changeable hues, and 
the New York farmers' fields are overrun by the 
newcomer. 

I have seen the Viper's Bugloss often since that 
day on the railroad train, now that I know it, and 
think of it. Thoreau noted the fact that in a large 
sense we find only what we look for. And he de- 
fined well our powers of perception when he said that 
many an object will not be seen, even when it comes 
within the range of our visual ray, because it does 
not come within the range of our intellectual ray. 

Last spring, having to spend a tiresome day riding 
the length of Long Island, I beguiled the hours by 
taking with me Thoreau's Summer to compare his 
notes of blossomings with those we passed. It was 
June 5, and I read : — 

"The Lupine is now in its glory. It is the more im- 
portant because it occurs in such extensive patches, even an 
acre or more together. ... It paints a whole hillside with 
its blue, making such a field, if not a meadow, as Proser- 
pine might have wandered in. Its leaf was made to be 
covered with dewdrops. I am quite excited by this pros- 
pect of blue flowers in clumps, with narrow intervals; such 
a profusion of the heavenly, the Elysian color, as if these 
were the Elysian Fields. That is the value of the Lupine. 
The earth is blued with it. . . , You may have passed 



276 



Old Time Gardens 



here a fortnight ago and the field was comparatively barren. 
Now you come, and these glorious redeemers appear to have 
flashed out here all at once. Who plants the seeds of Lu- 
pines in the barren soil ? Who watereth the Lupines in 
the field ? " 




The Precision of Leaf and Flower of Lupine. 

I looked from a car window, and lo ! the Long 
Island Railroad ran also through an Elysian Field 
of Lupines, nay, we sailed a swift course through a 
summer sea of blueness, and I seem to see it still, 
with its prim precision of outline and growth of 
both leaf and flower. The Lupine is beautiful in 
the garden border as it is in the landscape, whether 
the blossom be blue, yellow, or white. 

Thoreau was the slave of color, but he was the 
master of its description. He was as sensitive as 
Keats to the charm of blue, and left many records 
of his love, such as the paragraphs above quoted. 



The Blue Flower Border 277 

He noted with delight the abundance of" that prin- 
ciple which gives the air its azure color, which makes 
the distant hills and meadows appear blue," the 
"great blue presence" of Monadnock and Wachusett 
with its "far blue eye." He loved Lowell's 

" Sweet atmosphere of hazy blue. 
So leisurely, so soothing, so forgiving. 
That sometimes makes New England fit for living." 

He revelled in the blue tints of water, of snow, of 
ice ; in " the blueness and softness of a mild winter 
day." The constant blueness of the sky at night 
thrilled him with "an everlasting surprise," as did 
the blue shadows within the woods and the blueness 
of distant woods. How he would have rejoiced in 
Monet's paintings, how true he would have found 
their tones. He even idealized blueberries, " a very 
innocent ambrosial taste, as if made of ether itself, as 
they are colored with it." 

Thoreau was ever ready in thought of Proserpina 
gathering flowers. He offers to her the Lupine, the 
Blue-eyed Grass, and the Tufted Vetch, "blue, in- 
clining in spots to purple"; it affected him deeply 
to see such an abundance of blueness in the grass. 
" Celestial color, I see it afar in masses on the hill- 
side near the meadow — so much blue." 

I usually join with Thoreau in his flower loves ; 
but I cannot understand his feeling toward the blue 
Flag; that, after noting the rich fringed recurved 
parasols over its anthers, and its exquisite petals, that 
he could say it is "a little too showy and gaudy, 
like some women's bonnets." I note that when- 



278 Old Time Gardens 

ever he compares flowers to women it is in no flatter- 
ing humor to either; which is, perhaps, what we 
expect from a man who chose to be a bachelor and 
a hermit. His love of obscure and small flowers 
might explain his sentiment toward the radiant and 
dominant blue Flag. 

The most valued flower of my childhood, outside 
the garden, was a little sister of the Iris — the Blue- 
eyed Grass. To find it blooming was a triumph, for 
it was not very profuse of growth near my home ; 
to gather it a delight; why, I know not, since the 
tiny blooms promptly closed and withered as soon 
as we held them in our v/arm little hands. Colonel 
Higginson writes wittily of the Blue-eyed Grass, 
"It has such an annoying way of shutting up its 
azure orbs the moment you gather it; and you 
reach home with a bare stiff blade which deserves 
no better name than Sisyrinchium ancepsT 

The only time I ever played truant was to run off 
one June morning to find " the starlike gleam amid 
the grass and dew " ; to pick Blue-eyed Grass in a 
field to which I was conducted by another naughty 
girl. 1 was simple enough to come home at mid- 
day with my hands full of the stiff blades and tightly 
closed blooms ; and at my mother's inquiry as to 
my acquisition of these treasures, I promptly burst 
into tears. I was then told, in impressive phrase- 
ology adapted to my youthful comprehension, and 
with the flowers as eloquent proof, that all stolen 
pleasures were ever like my coveted flowers, with- 
ered and unsightly as soon as gathered — which my 
mother believed was true. 



The Blue Flower Border 279 

The blossoms of this little Iris seem to lie on the 
surface of the grass like a froth ot blueness ; they 
gaze up at the sky with a sort of intimacy as if they 
were a part of it. Thoreau called it an " air of easy 
sympathy." The slightest clouding or grayness of 
atmosphere makes them turn away and close. 

The naming of Proserpina leads me to say this: 
that to grow in love and knowledge of flowers, and 
above all of blue flowers, you must read Ruskin's 
Proserpina. It is a book of botany, of studies of 
plants, but begemmed with beautiful sentences and 
thoughts and expressions, with lessons of pleasant- 
ness which you can never forget, of pictures which 
you never cease to see, such sentences and pictures 
as this : — 

" Rome. My father's Birthday. I found the loveliest 
blue Asphodel I ever saw in my life in the fields beyond 
Monte Mario — a spire two feet high, of more than two 
hundred stars, the stalks of them all deep blue as well as 
the flowers. Heaven send all honest people the gathering 
of the like, in the Elysian Fields, some day ! " 

Oh, the power of written words ! when by these 
few lines I can carry forever in my inner vision this 
spire of starry blueness. To that writer, now in the 
Elysian Fields, an honest teacher if ever one lived, 
I send my thanks for this beautiful vision of blue- 
ness. 



CHAPTKR XII 



PLANT NAMES 




"The fascination of plant names is founded on two instincts, — 
love of Nature and curiosity about Language." 

— English Plant Names, Rev. John Earle, 1880. 

l^RBAL magic is the subtle mys- 
terious power of certain words. 
This power may come from asso- 
ciation with the senses; thus I 
have distinct sense of stimulation 
in the word scarlet, and pleasure 
in the words lucid and liquid. 
The word garden is a never ceasing delight ; it seems 
to me Oriental ; perhaps I have a transmitted sense 
from my grandmother Eve of the Garden of Eden. 
I like the words, a Garden of Olives, a Garden of 
Herbs, the Garden of the Gods, a Garden enclosed, 
Philosophers of the Garden, the Garden of the Lord. 
As I have written on gardens, and thought on gar- 
dens, and walked in gardens, " the very music of 
the name has gone into my being." How beautiful 
are Cardinal Newman's words : — 

" By a garden is meant mystically a place of spiritual 
repose, stillness, peace, refreshment, delight." 

There was, in Gerarde's day, no fixed botanical 
nomenclature of any of the parts or attributes of a 

2S0 



Plant Names 



281 




The Garden's Friend. 



plant. Without using botanical terms, try to de- 
scribe a plant so as to give an exact notion of it to a 
person who has never seen it, then try to find com- 
mon words to describe hundreds of plants ; you 
will then admire the vocabulary of the old herbalist, 
his " fresh Knglish words," for you will find that it 
needs the most dextrous use of words to convey accu- 



282 Old Tunc Gardens 

rately the figure o\i\ Hower. Thar felicity and facility 
Gerarde had; "a bleak white color" — how clearly 
vou see it ! The Water Lily had " great round leaves 
like a buckler." The Cat-tail Flags " flower and bear 
their niace or torch in July and August." One 
plant had "deeply gashed leaves." The Mari- 
gold had "tat thick crumpled leaves set upon a gross 
and sponi:;ious stalke." Here is the Wake-robin, 
" a lontx hotnl in proportion like the ear ot a hare, 
in middle ot which hood cometh forth a pestle or 
clapper ot a dark murry or pale purple color." 
The leaves of the Corn-marigold are " much hackt 
and cut into divers sections and placed confusedly." 
Another plant had leaves o{ '' an overworne green," 
and Pansy leaves were ''a bleak green." The leaves 
o\ Tansy are alst) \i\idly described as "" infinitely 
iau;L2;ed and nicked and curled with all like unto a 
plume o\ feathers." 

The classification and namiiiLi; of tlowers was much 
thought and written upon from Cierarde's day, luitil 
the great work of l.innivus was finished. Some 
very original schemes were dexised. T/.w Curioits 
and Profitable Ciinh/c'r, printed in I'T^^o, suggested 
this plan: That all plants slunild be named to indi- 
cate their color, and that the initials of their names 
should be the initials of their respectix'e colors ; 
thus if a plant were named William the Con- 
queror it would indicate that the name was of a 
white fiower with crimson lines or shades. " \'ir- 
tuous Oreada would indicate a violet and orange 
flow'er ; Charming Phyllis or Curious Plotinus a 
crimson and purple blossom." S. was to indicate 



Planf N:imcs 



2H] 



HIack or Sahlc, and wliaf letter was Starlet to have ? 
The " curious ingenious ( jeiitleiiian " wIuj j)ul)lislieti 
this j^laii uru;e(i also the giving of " ponijious nanus " 
as inoi-e clignilietl ; and he made the assertion that 
I^'rench and Meniish " Mowcrists " had adoj)red his 
system. 




Edging of Striped Liiicb in a Salem Garden. 



These were all forerunners of Ruskin, with his 
poetical notions of plant nomenclature, such as this; 
that feminine forms of names ending in a (as I'ru- 
neila, Campanula, Salvia, Kalmia) and is (Iris, Ama- 
rylis) should he given only to jilants " that are pretty 
and good"; and that real names, l.ucia, Clarissa, 
etc., be also given. Masculine names in «.f should he 



284 Old Time Gardens 

given to plants of masculine qualities, — strength, 
force, stubbornness ; neuter endings in //;;/, given to 
plants indicative of evil or death, 

I have a fancy anent many old-time flower 
names that thev are also the names ot persons. I 
think of them as persons bearing various traits and 
characteristics. On the other hand, many old Eng- 
lish Christian names seem so suited for flowers, that 
they might as well stand for flowers as tor persons. 
Here are a few of these quaint old names, Collet, 
Colin, Emmot, Issot, Doucet, Dobinet, Cicely, 
Audrey, Amice, Hilary, Bryde, Morrice, I'yftany, 
Amery, Nowell, Ellice, Digory, Avery, Audley, 
Jacomin, (lillian, Petronille, Gresel, Joyce, Lettice, 
Cibell, Avice, Cesselot, Parnell, Rcnelsha. Do they 
not " smell sweet to the ear " ? The names of flow- 
ers are often given as Christian names. Children 
have been christened by the names Dahlia, Clover, 
Hyacinth, Asphodel, Verbena, Mignonette, Pansy, 
Heartsease, Daisy, Zinnia, Fraxinella, Poppy, Daf- 
fodil, Hawthorn. 

What power have the old English names of gar- 
den flowers, to unlock old memories, as have the 
flowers themselves ! Dr. Earle writes, " The fasci- 
nation of plant names is founded on two instincts ; 
love of Nature, and curiosity about Language." 
To these I should add an equally strong instinct 
in many persons — their sensitiveness to associa- 
tions. 

I am never more filled with a sense of the delight 
of old English plant-names than when I read the 
liquid verse of Spenser: — 



Plant Names 285 

** Bring hether the pincke and purple Cullembine 

. . . with Gellifloures, 
Bring hether Coronations and Sops-in-wine 

Worne of paramours. 
Sow me the ground with Daffadowndillies 
And Cowslips and Kingcups and loved Lilies, 

The pretty Pawnee 

The Chevisaunce 
Shall match with the fayre Flour Delice." 

Why, the names are a pleasure, though you know 
not what the Sops-in-wine or the Chevisaunce were. 
Gilliflowers were in the verses of every poet. One 
of scant fame, named Plat, thus sings : — 

" Here spring the goodly Gelofors, 

Some white, some red in showe ; 
Here pretie Pinks with jagged leaves 

On rugged rootes do growe ; 
The Johns so sweete in showe and smell. 

Distinct by colours twaine. 
About the borders of their beds 

In seemlie sight remaine." 

If there ever existed any difference between Sweet- 
johns and Sweet-williams, it is forgotten now. 
They have not shared a revival of popularity with 
other old-time favorites. They were one of the " gar- 
land flowers " of Gerarde's day, and were " esteemed 
for beauty, to deck up the bosoms of the beauti- 
ful, and for garlands and crowns of pleasure." In 
the gardens of Hampton Court in the days of King 
Henry VIII., were Sweet-williams, for the plants had 
been bought by the bushel. Sweet-williams are little 



286 Old Time Gardens 

sung by the poets, and I never knew any one to 
call the Sweet-william her favorite flower, save one 
person. Old residents of Worcester will recall the 
tiny cottage that stood on the corner of Chestnut 
and Pleasant streets, since the remote years when the 
latter-named street was a post-road. It was occu- 
pied during my childhood by friends of my mother 
— a century-old mother, and her ancient unmarried 
daughter. Behind the house stretched one of the 
most cheerful gardens I have ever seen ; ever, in my 
memory, bathed in glowing sunlight and color. Of 
its glories I recall specially the long spires of vivid 
Bee Larkspur, the varied Poppies of wonderful 
growth, and the rioting Sweet-williams. The latter 
flowers had some sentimental association to the older 
lady, who always asserted with emphasis to all vis- 
itors that they were her favorite flower. They over- 
ran the entire garden, crowding the grass plot where 
the washed garments were hung out to dry, even 
growing in the chinks of the stone steps and between 
the flat stone flagging of the little back yard, where 
stood the old well with its moss-covered bucket. 
They spread under the high board fence and ap- 
peared outside on Chestnut Street ; and they ex- 
tended under the dense Lilac bushes and Cedars 
and down the steep grass bank and narrow steps to 
Pleasant Street. The seed was carefully gathered, 
especially of one glowing crimson beauty, the color 
of the Mullein Pink, and a gift of it was highly 
esteemed by other garden owners. Old herbals say 
the Sweet-williams are " worthy the Respect of the 
Greatest Ladies who are Lovers of Flowers." They 



Plant Names 287 

certainly had the respect and love of these two old 
ladies, who were truly Lovers of Flowers. 

I recall an objection made to Sweet-williams, hy 
some one years ago, that they were of no use or value 
save in the garden ; that they could never be com- 
bined in bouquets, nor did they arrange well in vases. 
It is a place of honor, some of us believe, to be a 
garden flower as well as a vase flower. This garden 
was the only one 1 knew when a child which con- 
tained plants of Love-lies-bleeding — it had even 
then been deemed old-fashioned and out of date. 
And it also held a few Sunflowers, which had not then 
had a revival of attention, and seemed as obsolete 
as the Love-lies-bleeding. The last-named flower 
I always disliked, a shapeless, gawky creature, de- 
scribed in florists' catalogues and like publications as 
" an efl^ective plant easily attaining to a splendid form 
bearing many plume-tufts of rich lustrous crimson." 
It is the "immortal amarant " chosen by Milton to 
crown the celestial beings in Paradise Lost. Poor 
angels ! they have had many trying vagaries of 
attire assigned to them. 

I can contribute to plant lore one fantastic notion 
in regard to Love-lies-bleeding — though I can find 
no one who can confirm this memory of my child- 
hood, I recall distinctly expressions of surprise 
and regret that these two old people in Worcester 
should retain the Love-lies-bleeding in their garden, 
because " the house would surely be struck with' 
lightning." Perhaps this fancy contributed to the 
exile of the flower from gardens. 

There be those who write, and I suppose they 



288 



Old Time Gardens 



believe, that a love of Nature and perception of her 
beauties and a knowledge of flowers, are the dower 
of those who are country born and bred ; by which 
is meant reared upon a farm. I have not found this 
true. Farm children have little love for Nature and 
are surprisingly ignorant about wild flowers, save a 




Terraced Garden of the Misses Nichols, Salem, Massachusetts. 



very few varieties. The child who is garden bred 
has a happier start in life, a greater love and knowl- 
edge of Nature. It is a principle of Froebel that 
one must limit a child's view in order to coordinate 
his perceptions. That is precisely what is done in a 
child's regard of Nature by his life in a garden ; his 



Plant Names 289 

view is limited and he learns to know garden flowers 
and birds and insects thoroughly, when the vast and 
bewildering variety of field and forest would have 
remained unappreciated by him. 

It is a distressing condition of the education of 
farmers, that they know so little about the country. 
The man knows about his crops, and his wife about 
the flowers, herbs, and vegetables of her garden ; 
but no countrymen know the names of wild flowers 
— and few countrywomen, save of medicinal herbs. 
I asked one farmer the name of a brilliant autumnal 
flower whose intense purple was then unfamiliar to 
me — the Devil's-bit. He answered, "Them's Woi- 
lets." Violet is the only word in which the initial V 
is ever changed to W by native New Englanders. 
Every pink or crimson flower is a Pink. Spring 
blossoms are " Mayflowers." A frequent answer is, 
" Those ain't flowers, they're weeds." They are more 
knowing as to trees, though shaky about the ever- 
green trees, having little idea of varieties and inclined 
to call many Spruce. They know little about the 
reasons for names of localities, or of any histor- 
ical traditions save those of the Revolution. One 
exclaims in despair, " No one in the country knows 
anything about the country." 

This is no recent indifference and ignorance; Susan 
Cooper wrote in her Rural Hours in 1848 : — 

"When we first made acquaintance with the flowers of 
the neighborhood we asked grown persons — learned per- 
haps in many matters — the common names of plants they 
must have seen all their lives, and we found they were no 



290 



Old Time Gardens 



wiser than the chiklrcn or ourselves. It is really surprising 
how little country people know on such subjects. Farmers 
and their wives can tell you nothing on these matters. The 
men are at fault even among the trees on their own farms, 
if thev are at all out of the common way ; and as for 
smaller native plants, they know less about them than Buck 
or Brindle, their own oxen." 




Kitchen Dooryard at Wilbour Farm, Kingston. Rhode Island. 



In that delightful book, The Rescue of an Old 
Place^ the author has a chapter on the love of flow- 
ers in America. It was written anent the ever- 
present statements seen in metropolitan print that 
Americans do not love flowers because they are used 
among the rich and fashionable in large cities for 
extravagant display rather than for enjoyment ; and 
that we accept botanical names for our indigenous 



Plant Names 291 

plants instead of calling them by homely ones such 
as familiar flowers are known by in older lands. 

Two more foolish claims could scarcely be made. 
In the first place, the doings of fashionable folk in 
large cities are fortunately far from being a national 
index or habit. Secondly, in ancient lands the peo- 
ple named the flowers long before there were bota- 
nists, here the botanists found the flowers and named 
them for the people. Moreover, country folk in 
New England and even in the far West call flowers 
by pretty folk-names, if they call them at all, just as 
in Old England. 

The fussing over the use of the scientific Latin 
names for plants apparently will never cease; many 
of these Latin names are very pleasant, have become 
so from constant usage, and scarcely seem Latin ; 
thus Clematis, Tiarella, Rhodora, Arethusa, Cam- 
panula, Potentilla, Hepatica. When I know the 
folk-names of flowers I always speak thus of them 
— and to them; but I am grateful too for the scien- 
tific classification and naming, as a means of accurate 
distinction. For any flower student quickly learns 
that the same English folk-name is given in difl^erent 
localities to very different plants. For instance, the 
name Whiteweed is applied to ten difi^erent plants ; 
there are in England ten or twelve Cuckoo-flowers, 
and twenty-one Bachelor's Buttons. Such names 
as Mayflower, Wild Pink, Wild Lily, Eyebright, 
Toad-flax, Ragged Robin, None-so-pretty, Lady's- 
fingers, Four-o'clocks, Redweed, Buttercups, Butter- 
flower, Cat's-tail, Rocket, Blue-Caps, Creeping-jenny, 
Bird's-eye, Bluebells, apply to half a dozen plants. 



1()1 



Old Tiinc Gardens 



The oKl tolk-iianics arc not definite, hut thev are 
dehghttul ; thev tell of mythology and medicine, of 
superstitions and traditions ; thev show trains of 
relationship, and associations ; in tact, thev appeal 
more to the philologist and antii]viarian than tt) the 
botanist. /Vmong all the languages w hich contribute 
to the \arietv and pictvu-esqueness of iMiglish plant 




"A running ribbon of perfumed snow wliicii the sun is melting 
rapidly. 

names, Dr. Prior deems Maple the onlv (Mie sur- 
viving from the Celtic language. Ciromwell and 
Wormwood mav possiblv be aeldcil. 

There are some Anglo-Saxon words; among them 
Hawthorn and Groundsel. French, Dutch, and 
Danish names are many, Arabic and Persian are 
more. Many plant names are dedicatory; they em- 
bodv the names of the saints and a few the names 



Plant Names 



293 



of the Deity, Our Lady's Flowers are many and 
interesting; my daugiiter wrote a series of articles 
for the New Tork Evening Post on Our Lady's 
Flowers, and the list swelled to a surprising num- 
ber. The devil and witches have their shares of 
flowers, as have the fairies. 

I have always regretted deeply that our botanists 
neglected an opportunity of great enrichment in 
plant nomenclature when they ignored the Indian 
names of our native plants, shrubs, and trees. The 
first names given these plants were not always 
planned by botanists; they were more often invented 
in loving memory of Lnglish plants, or sometimes 
from a fancied resemblance to those plants. They 
did give the wonderfully descriptive name of Moc- 
casin-flower to that creature of the wild-woods ; and 
a far more appropriate title it is than Lady's-slipper, 
but it is not as well known. I have never found the 
Lady's-slipper as beautiful a flower as do nearly all 
my friends, as did my father and mother, and I 
was pleased at Ruskin's sharp comment that such a 
slipper was only fit for very gouty old toes. 

Pappoose-root utilizes another Indian word. Very 
few Indian plant names were adopted by the white 
men, fewer still have been adopted by the scientists. 
The Catalpa speciosa (Catalpa) ; the Zea mays 
(Maize); and Yucca filamentosa (Yucca), are the 
only ones I know. Chinkapin, Cohosh, Hackma- 
tack, Kinnikinnik, Tamarack, Persimmon, Tupelo, 
Squash, Puccoon, Pipsissewa, Musquash, Pecan, 
the Scuppernong and Catawba grapes, are our only 
well-known Indian plant names that survive. Of 



294 ^^^ Time Gardens 

these Maize, the distinctive product of the United 
States, will ever link us with the vanishing Indian. 
It will be noticed that only Puccoon, Cohosh, Pip- 
sissewa, Hackmatack, and Yucca are names of flower- 
ing plants ; of these Yucca is the only one generally 
known. I am glad our stately native trees, Tupelo, 
Hickory, Catalpa, bear Indian names. 

A curious example of persistence, when so much 
else has perished, is found in the word " Kiskatomas," 
the shellbark nut. This Algonquin word was heard 
everywhere in the state of New York sixty years 
ago, and is not yet obsolete in families of Dutch 
descent who still care for the nut itself 

We could very well have preserved many Indian 
names, among them Hiawatha's 

"Beauty of the springtime, 
The Miskodeed in blossom," 

I think Miskodeed a better name than Claytonia or 
Spring Beauty. The Onondaga Indians had a sug- 
gestive name for the Marsh Marigold, " It-opens- 
the-swamps," which seems to show you the yellow 
stars "shining in swamps and hollows gray." The 
name Cowslip has been transferred to it in some 
localities in New England, which is not strange 
when we find that the flower has fifty-six English 
folk-names ; among them are Drunkards, Crazy 
Bet, Meadow-bright, Publicans and Sinners, Sol- 
diers' Buttons, Gowans, Kingcups, and Buttercups. 
Our Italian street venders call them Buttercups. In 
erudite Boston, in sight of Boston Common, the 
beautiful Fringed Gentian is not only called, but 



Plant Names 



295 



labelled, French Gentian. To hear a lovely bunch 
of the Arethusa called Swamp Pink is not so 
strange. The Sabbatia grows in its greatest profu- 
sion in the vicinity of Plymouth, Massachusetts, 
and is called locally, " The Rose of Plymouth." 
It is sold during its season of bloom in the streets 
of that town and is used to dress the churches. Its 
name was given to honor an early botanist, Tibera- 
tus Sabbatia, but in Plymouth there is an almost 
universal belief that it was named because the Pil- 
grims of 1620 first saw the flower on the Sabbath 
day. It thus is regarded as a religious emblem, and 
strong objection is made to mingling other flowers 
with it in church decoration. This legend was 
invented about thirty years ago by a man whose 
name is still remembered as well as his work. 



CHAPTER XIII 




TUSSY-MUSSIES 

•* There be some flowers make a delicious Tussie-Mussie or 
Nosegay both for Sight and Smell." 

— John Parkinson, A Garden of all Sorts of Pleasant F/oivers, 1629. 

.^mmsm x svm '^^ Q following can be more pro- 
ductive of a study and love of 
word derivations and allied word 
meanings than gardening. An 
interest in flowers and in our 
English tongue go hand in hand. 
The old mediaeval word at the 
head of this chapter has a full 
explanation by Nares as "A nosegay, a tuzzie-muz- 
zie, a sweet posie." The old English form, tussy- 
mose was allied with tosty^ a bouquet, tuss and tusk^ a 
wisp, as of hay, tussock^ and tutty, a nosegay. 
Thomas Campion wrote : — 

"Joan can call by name her cows. 
And deck her windows with green boughs ; 
She can wreathes and tuttyes make. 
And trim with plums a bridal cake." 

Tussy-mussy was not a colloquial word ; it was 
found in serious, even in religious, text. A tussy- 
mussy was the most beloved of nosegays, and was 
often made of flowers mingled with sweet-scented 
leaves. 

296 



Tussy-mussies 297 

My favorite tussy-mussy, if made of flowers, 
would be of Wood Violet, Cabbage Rose, and Clove 
Pink. These are all beautiful flowers, but many 
of our most delightful fragrances do not come from 
flowers of gay dress ; even these three are not 
showy flowers ; flowers of bold color and growth 
are not apt to be sweet-scented ; and all flower per- 
fumes of great distinction, all that are unique, are 
from blossoms of modest color and bearing. The 
Calycanthus, called Virginia Allspice, Sweet Shrub, 
or Strawberry bush, has what I term a perfume of 
distinction, and its flowers are neither fine in shape, 
color, nor quality. 

1 have often tried to define to myself the scent of 
the Calycanthus blooms ; they have an aromatic fra- 
grance somewhat like the ripest Pineapples of the 
tropics, but still richer ; how I love to carry them in 
my hand, crushed and warm, occasionally holding 
them tight over my mouth and nose to fill myself 
with their perfume. The leaves have a similar, but 
somewhat varied and sharper, scent, and the woody 
stems another ; the latter I like to nibble. This 
flower has an element of mystery in it — that inde- 
scribable quality felt by children, and remembered 
by prosaic grown folk. Perhaps its curious dark red- 
dish brown tint may have added part of the queer- 
ness, since the " Mourning Bride," similar in color, 
has a like mysterious association. I cannot explain 
these qualities to any one not a garden-bred child ; 
and as given in the chapter entitled The Mystery 
of Flowers, they will appear to many, fanciful and 
unreal — but I have a fraternity who will understand, 



298 



Old Time Gardens 



and who will know that it was this same undefinable 
quality that made a branch of Strawberry bush, or a 
handful of its stemless blooms, a gift significant of 
interest and intimacy ; we would not willingly give 







Mm-. 






Hawthorn Arch at Holly House, Peace Dale, Rhode Island. 
Home of Rowland G. Hazard, Esq. 

Calycanthus blossoms to a child we did not like, or 
to a stranger. 

A rare perfume floats from the modest yellow 
Flowering Currant, I do not see this sweet and 
sightly shrub in many modern gardens, and it is 
our loss. The crowding bees are goodly and cheer- 
ful, and the flowers are pleasant, but the perfume is 
of the sort you can truly say you love it ; its aroma 
is like some of the liqueurs of the old monks. 



Tussy-mussies 299 

The greatest pleasure in flower perfumes comes 
to us through the first flowers of spring. How 
we breathe in their sweetness ! Our native wild 
flowers give us the most delicate odors. The May- 
flower is, I believe, the only wild flower for which 
all country folk of New England have a sincere 
affection ; it is not only a beautiful, an enchanting 
flower, but it is so fresh, so balmy of bloom. It 
has the delicacy of texture and form characteristic 
of many of our native spring blooms, Hepatica, 
Anemone, Spring Beauty, Polygala. 

The Arethusa was one of the special favorites of 
my father and mother, who delighted in its exquisite 
fragrance. Hawthorne said of it : " One of the deli- 
catest, gracefullest, and in every manner sweetest of 
the whole race of flowers. For a fortnight past 1 
have found it in the swampy meadows, growing up 
to its chin in heaps of wet moss. Its hue is a deli- 
cate pink, of various depths of shade, and somewhat 
in the form of a Grecian helmet." 

It pleases me to fancy that Hawthorne was like 
the Arethusa, that it was a fit symbol of the nature 
of our greatest New England genius. Perfect in 
grace and beauty, full of sentiment, classic and 
elegant of shape, it has a shrinking heart ; the 
sepals and petals rise over it and shield it, and the 
whole flower is shy and retiring, hiding in marshes 
and quaking bogs. 

It is one of our flowers which we ever regard 
singly, as an individual, a rare and fine spirit ; we 
never think of it as growing in an expanse or even 
in groups. This lovely flower has, as Landor said 



joo Old Time Gardens 

of the flower of the vine, " a scent so dehcate that 
it requires a sigh to inhale it." 

The faintest flower scents are the best. You 
find yourself longing for just a little more, and 
you bury your face in the flowers and try to draw 
out a stronger breath of balm. Apple blossoms, 
certain Violets, and Pansies have this pale perfume. 

In the front yard of my childhood's home grew 
a Larch, an exquisitely graceful tree, one now little 
planted in Northern climates. I recall with special 
delight the faint fragrance of its early shoots. The 
next tree was a splendid pink Hawthorn. What a 
day of mourning it was when it had to be cut down, 
for trees had been planted so closely that many 
must be sacrificed as years went on and all grew in 
stature. 

There are some smells that are strangely pleasing 
to the country lover which are neither from fragrant 
flower nor leaf; one is the scent of the upturned 
earth, most heartily appreciated in early spring. The 
smell of a ploughed field is perhaps the best of all 
earthy scents, though what Bliss Carman calls " the 
racy smell of the forest loam " is always good. 
Another is the burning of weeds of garden rakings, 

" The spicy smoke 
Of withered weeds that burn where gardens be." 

A garden "weed-smother" always makes me 
think of my home garden, and my father, who 
used to stand by this burning weed-heap, raking in 
the withered leaves. Many such scents are pleasing 
chiefly through the power of association. 



Tussy-mussies 



301 




Thyme-covered Graves. 

The sense of smell in its psychological relations 
is most subtle : — 

" The subtle power in perfume found, 
Nor priest nor sibyl vainly learned ; 
On Grecian shrine or Aztec mound 
No censer idlv burned. 

" And Nature holds in wood and field 
Her thousand sunlit censers still ; 
To spells of flower and shrub we yield 
Against or with our will." 



Dr. Holmes notes that memory, imagination, 
sentiment, are most readily touched through the 
sense of smell. He tells of the associations borne 
to him by the scent of Marigold, of Life-everlasting, 
of an herb closet. 



302 Old Time Gardens 

Notwithstanding all these tributes to sweet scents 
and to the sense of smell, it is not deemed, save in 
poetry, wholly meet to dwell much on smells, even 
pleasant ones. To all who here sniff a little dis- 
dainfully at a whole chapter given to flower scents, 
let me repeat the Oriental proverb: — 

*' To raise Flowers is a Common Thing, 
God alone gives them Fragrance." 

Balmier far, and more stimulating and satisfying 
than the perfumes of most blossoms, is the scent of 
aromatic or balsamic leaves, of herbs, of green grow- 
ing things. Sweetbrier, says Thoreau, is thus " thrice 
crowned : in fragrant leaf, tinted flower, and glossy 
fruit." Every spring we long, as Whittier wrote — 

" To come to Bayberry scented slopes. 

And fragrant Fern and Groundmat vine. 
Breathe airs blown o'er holt and copse. 
Sweet with black Birch and Pine." 

All these scents of holt and copse are dear to New 
Englanders. 

I have tried to explain the reason for the charm 
to me of growing Thyme. It is not its beautiful 
perfume, its clear vivid green, its tiny fresh flowers, 
or the element of historic interest. Alphonse Karr 
gives another reason, a sentiment of gratitude. He 
says : — 

"Thyme takes upon itself to embellish the parts of the 
earth which other plants disdain. If there is an arid, stony, 
dry soil, burnt up by the sun, it is there Thyme spreads its 
charming green beds, perfumed, close, thick, elastic, scat- 



Tussy-mussies 303 

tered over with little balls of blossom, pink in color, and of 
a delightful freshness." 

Thyme was, in older days, spelt Thime and Time. 
This made the poet call it " pun-provoking Thyme." 
I have an ancient recipe from an old herbal for 
" Water of Time to ease the Passions of the Heart." 
This remedy is efficacious to-day, whether you spell 
it time or thyme. 

There are shown on page 301 some lonely graves 
in the old Moravian burying-ground in Bethlehem, 
overgrown with the pleasant perfumed Thyme. 
And as we stand by their side we think with a half 
smile — a tender one — of the never-failing pun of 
the old herbalists. 

Spenser called Thyme " bee-alluring," " honey- 
laden." It was the symbol of sweetness; and the 
Thyme that grew on the sunny slopes of Mt. 
Hymettus gave to the bees the sweetest and most 
famed of all honey. The plant furnished physic as 
well as perfume and puns and honey. Pliny named 
eighteen sovereign remedies made from Thyme. 
These cured everything from the " bite of poysonful 
spidars " to "the Apoplex." There were so many 
recipes in the English Compleat Chirurgeon, and 
similar medical books, that you would fancy veno- 
mous spiders were as thick as gnats in England. 
These spider cure-alls are however simply a proof 
that the recipes were taken from dose-books of Pliny 
and various Roman physicians, with whom spider 
bites were more common and more painful than in 
England. 



304 Old Time Gardens 

The Haven of Health, written in 1366, with a 
special view to the curing of " Students," says that 
Wild Thyme has a great power to drive away heaviness 
of mind, " to purge melancholly and splenetick 
humours." And the author recommends to " sup 
the leaves with eggs." The leaves were used every- 
where " to be put in puddings and such like meates, 
so that in divers places Thime was called Pudding- 
grass." Pudding in early days was the stuffing of 
meat and poultry, while concoctions of eggs, milk, 
flour, sugar, etc., like our modern puddings, were 
called whitpot. 

Many traditions hang around Thyme. It was 
used widely in incantations and charms. It was 
even one of the herbs through whose magic power 
you could see fairies. Here is a " Choice Proven 
Secret made Known" from the Ashmolean Mss. 

How to see Fayries 

" 1^,. A pint of Sallet-Oyle and put it into a vial-glasse 
but first wash it with Rose-water and Marygolde-water the 
Flowers to be gathered toward the East. Wash it until 
teh Oyle come white. Then put it in the glasse, ut supra : 
Then put thereto the budds of Holyhocke, the flowers of 
Marygolde, the flowers or toppers of Wild Thyme, the 
budds of young Hazle : and the time must be gathered 
neare the side of a Hill where Fayries used to be : and 
take the grasse off a Fayrie throne. Then all these put 
into the Oyle into the Glasse, and sette it to dissolve three 
dayes in the Sunne and then keep for thy use ut supra." 

" I know a bank whereon the Wild Thyme 
blows" — it is not in old England, but on Long 



Tussy-mussies 



305 



Island ; the dense clusters of tiny aromatic flowers 
form a thick cushioned carpet under our feet. Lord 
Bacon says in his essay on Gardens : — 

" Those which perfume the air most delightfully, not 
passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed 



m:^:;^^': 






/0^ T^: ■''"^' '^w^, v„ 



■y^-m 






^ -4^ 






'White Umbrellas of Elder." 



are three : that is, Burnet, Wild Thyme, and Water-Mints. 
Therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the 
pleasure when you walk or tread." 

Here we have an alley of Thyme, set by nature, 
for us to tread upon and enjoy, though Thyme 
always seems to me so classic a plant, that it is far 
too fine to walk upon ; one ought rather to sleep and 
dream upon it. 



3o6 Old Time Gardens 

Great bushes of Elder, another flower of witch- 
craft, grow and blossom near my Thyme bank. Old 
Thomas Browne, as long ago as 1685 called the Elder 
bloom " white umbrellas " — which has puzzled me 
much, since we are told to assign the use and knowl- 
edge of umbrellas in England to a much later date ; 
perhaps he really wrote umbellas. Now it is a well- 
known fact — sworn to in scores of old herbals, 
that any one who stands on Wild Thyme, by the 
side of an Elder bush, on Midsummer Eve, will 
" see great experiences " ; his eyes will be opened, 
his wits quickened, his vision clarified ; and some 
have even seen fairies, pixies — Shakespeare's elves 
— sporting over the Thyme at their feet, 

I shall not tell whom I saw walking on my Wild 
Thyme bank last Midsummer Eve. I did not need 
the Elder bush to open my eyes. I watched the 
twain strolling back and forth in the half-light, and 
I heard snatches of talk as they walked toward me, 
and I lost the responses as they turned from me. 
At last, in a louder voice : — 

He. " What is this jolly smell all around here? Just 
like a mint-julep ! Some kind of a flower ? " 

She. "It's Thyme, Wild Thyme; it has run into the 
edge of the lawn from the field, and is just ruining the 
grass." 

He [stooping to pick it). " Why, so it is. I thought 
it came from that big white flower over there by the hedge." 

She. " No, that is Elder." 

He {after a pause). " I had to learn a lot of old 
Arnold's poetry at school once, or in college, and there was 
some just like to-night : — 



Tussy-mussies. joy 

" *The evening comes — the fields are still. 
The tinkle of the thirsty rill. 
Unheard all day, ascends again. 
Deserted is the half-mown plain. 
And from the Thyme upon the height. 
And from the Elder-blossom white. 
And pale Dog Roses in the hedge. 
And from the Mint-plant in the sedge, 
In puffs of balm the night air blows 
The perfume which the day foregoes — 
And on the pure horizon far 
See pulsing with the first-born star 
The liquid light above the hill. 
The evening comes — the fields are still.' " 

Then came the silence and half-stiffness which is 
ever apt to follow any long quotation, especially any 
rare recitation of verse by those who are notoriously 
indifferent to the charms of rhyme and rhythm, 
and are of another sex than the listener. It seems 
to indicate an unusual condition of emotion, to be 
a sort of barometer of sentiment, and the warning 
of threatening weather was not unheeded by her ; 
hence her response was somewhat nervous in utter- 
ance, and instinctively perverse and contradictory. 

She. " That line, ' The liquid light above the hill,' is 
very lovely, but I can't see that it's any of it at all like 
to-night." 

He (^stoutly and resentfully). " Oh, no ! not at all ! There's 
the field, all still, and here's Thyme, and Elder, and there 
are wild Roses! — and see! the moon is coming up — 
so there's your liquid light." 

She. "Well ! Yes, perhaps it is ; at any rate it is a lovely 
night. You've read Lavengro? No? Certainly you 



3o8 Old Time Gardens 

must have heard of it. The gipsy in it says : ' Life is 
sweet, brother. rhcre's day and night, brother, both 
sweet things ; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet 
things; there is likewise a wind on the heath.'" 

He {^dubiously). " T'hat's rather queer poetry, if it is poetry 
— and you must know I do not like to hear you call me 
brother." 

Whereupon I discreetly betrayed my near presence 
on the piazza, to prove that the field, though still, 
was not deserted. And soon the twain said they 
would walk to the club house to view the golf 
prizes; and they left the Wild Thyme and Elder 
blossoms white, and turned their backs on the moon, 
and fell to golf and other eminently unromantic 
topics, far safer for Midsummer Eve than poesy and 
other sweet things. 




Lower Garden at Sylvester Manor, 



CHAPTER XIV 




JOAN SILVER-riN 

"Being of many variable colours, and of great beautie, although 
of cvill smell, our gentlewomen doe call them Jone Silver-pin." 

— John Geraruk, llcrhall, 1596. 

ARDI\N Poppies were the Joan 
Silver-pin of Gerarde, stigma- 
tized also by Parkinson as 
"Jone Silver-pinne, subauditur ; 
faire without and foule within." 
In Elizabeth's day Poppies met 
universal distrust and aversion, 
as being the source of the 
dreaded opium. Spenser called the flower "dead- 
sleeping " Poppy ; Morris " the black heart, amorous 
Poppy" — which might refer to the black spots in 
the flower's heart. 

Clare, in his Shepherd's Calendar also asperses 
them : — 

" Corn-poppies, that in crimson dwell. 

Called Head-aches from their sickly smell." 

Forby adds this testimony : " Any one by smelling 
of it for a very short time may convince himself of 
the propriety of the name." Some fancied that the 
dazzle of color caused headaches — that vivid scarlet, 

309 



3IO 



Old Time Gardens 



so fine a word as well as color that it is annoying 
to hear the poets change it to crimson. 

This regard of and aversion to the Poppy lingered 
among elderly folks till our own day ; and I well 
recall the horror of a visitor of antique years in our 
mother's garden during our childhood, when we 
were found cheerfully eating Poppy seeds. She 
viewed us with openly expressed apprehension that 




"Black Heart, Amorous Poppies." 

we would fall into a stupor; and quite terrified us 
and our relatives, in spite of our assertions that we 
" always ate them," which indeed we always did and 
do to this day ; and very pleasant of taste thev are, 
and of absolutely no effect, and not at all of evil 
smell to our present fancy, either in blossom or seed, 
though distinctly medicinal in odor. 

Returned missionaries were frequent and honored 
visitors in our town and our house in those days; 
and one of these good men reassured us and rein- 



Joan Silver-pin 31 1 

stated in favor our uncanny feast by telling us 
that in the East, Poppy seeds were eaten everywhere, 
and were frequently baked with wheaten flour into 
cakes. A dislike of the scent of Field Poppies is 
often found among English folk. The author of 
A World in a Garden speaks in disgust of " the pun- 
gent and sickly odor of the flaring Poppies — they 
positively nauseate me " ; but then he disliked their 
color too. 

There is something very fine about a Poppy, in the 
extraordinary combination of boldness of color and 
great size with its slender delicacy of stem, the grace 
of the set of the beautiful buds, the fine turn of the 
flower as it opens, and the wonderful airiness of poise 
of so heavy a flower. The silkiness of tissue of the 
petals, and their semi-transparency in some colors, 
and the delicate fringes of some varieties, are great 
charms. 

Each crumpled crepe-like leaf is soft as silk ; 

Long, long ago the children saw them there. 
Scarlet and rose, with fringes white as milk, 

And called them ' shawls for fairies' dainty wear ' ; 
They were not finer, those laid safe away 

In that low attic, neath the brown, warm eaves." 

And when the flowers have shed, oh, so lightly ! 
their silken petals, there is still another beauty, a seed 
vessel of such classic shape that it wears a crown. 

I have always rejoiced in the tributes paid to the 
Poppy by Ruskin and Mrs. Thaxter. She deemed 
them the most satisfactory flower among the annuals 
" for wondrous variety, certain picturesque qualities, 
for color and form, and a subtle air of mystery." 



312 Old Time Gardens 

There is a line of Poppy colors which is most 
entrancing ; the gray, smoke color, lavender, mauve, 
and lilac Poppies, edged often and freaked with tints 
of red, are rarely beautiful things. There are fine 
white Poppies, some fringed, some single, some 
double — the Bride is the appropriate name of the 
fairest. And the pinks of Poppies, that wonderful 
red-pink, and a shell-pink that is almost salmon, and 
the sunset pinks of our modern Shirley Poppies, 
with quality like finest silken gauze ! The story of 
the Shirley Poppies is one of magic, that a flower- 
loving clergyman who in 1882 sowed the seed of 
one specially beautiful Poppy which had no black 
in it, and then sowed those of its fine successors, 
produced thus a variety which has supplied the world 
with beauty. Rev. Mr. Wilks, their raiser, gives 
these simply worded rules anent his Shirley Pop- 
pies : — 

" I, They are single; 2, always have a white base; 
3, with yellow or white stamens, anthers, or pollen ; 4, and 
never have the smallest particle of black about them." 

The thought of these successful and beautiful 
Poppies is very stimulating to flower raisers of mod- 
erate means, with no profound knowledge of flowers ; 
it shows what can be done by enthusiasm and appli- 
cation and patience. It gives something of the same 
comfort found in Keats's fine lines to the singing 
thrush ; — 

" Oh ! fret not after knowledge. 
I have none, and yet the evening listens.^'' 



Joan Silver-pin 313 

Notwithstanding all this distinction and beauty, 
these fine things of the garden were dubbed Joan 
Silver-pin. 1 wonder who Joan Silver-pin was ! I 
have searched faithfully for her, but have not been 
able to get on the right scent. Was she of real life, 
or fiction .? I have looked through the lists of char- 
acters of contemporary plays, and read a few old jest 
books and some short tales of that desperately color- 
less sort, wherein you read page after page of the 
printed words with as little absorption of signification 
as if they were Choctaw. But never have I seen 
Joan Silver-pin's name ; it was a bit of Elizabethan 
slang, I suspect, — a cant term once well known by 
every one, now existing solely through this chance 
reference of the old herbalists. 

No garden can aspire to be named An Old-fash- 
ioned Garden unless it contains that beautiful plant 
the Garden Valerian, known throughout New Eng- 
land to-day as Garden Heliotrope ; as Setwall it 
grew in every old garden, as it was in every pharma- 
copoeia. It was termed "drink-quickening Setuale " 
by Spenser, from the universal use of its flowers to 
flavor various enticing drinks. Its lovely blossoms 
are pinkish in bud and open to pure white ; its 
curiously penetrating vanilla-like fragrance is disliked 
by many who are not cats. I find it rather pleas- 
ing of scent when growing in the garden, and not at 
all like the extremely nasty-smelling medicine which 
is made from it, and which has been used for centuries 
for " histerrick fits," and is still constantly prescribed 
to-day for that unsympathized-with malady. Dr. 
Holmes calls it, " Valerian, calmer of hysteric 



314 



Old Time Gardens 




Valerian. 



squirms." It is a stately plant when in tall flower in 
June; my sister had great clumps of bloom like the 
ones shown above, but alas ! the cats caught them 



Joan Silver-pin 315 

before the photographer did. The cats did not have 
to watch the wind and sun and rain, to pick out plates 
and pack plate-holders, and gather ray-fillers and 
cloth and lens, and adjust the tripod, and fix the 
camera and focus, and think, and focus, and think, 
and then wait — till the wind ceased blowing. So 
when they found it, they broke down every slender 
stalk and rolled in it till the ground was tamped down 
as hard as if one of our lazy road-menders had been 
at it. V^alerian has in England as an appropriate folk 
name, " Cats'-fancy." The pretty little annual, Ne- 
mophila, makes also a favorite rolling-place for our 
cat ; while all who love cats have given them Catnip 
and seen the singular intoxication it brings. The 
sight of a cat in this strange ecstasy over a bunch 
of Catnip always gives me a half-sense of fear ; she 
becomes such a truly wild creature, such a miniature 
tiger. 

In The Art of Gardenings by J. W., Gent., 1683, 
the author says of Marigolds : " There are divers 
sorts besides the common as the African Marigold, 
a Fair bigge Yellow Flower, but of a very Naughty 
Smell." I cannot refrain, ere I tell more of the 
Marigold's naughtiness, to copy a note written in 
this book by a Massachusetts bride whose new hus- 
band owned and studied the book two hundred years 
ago; for it gives a little glimpse of old-time life. In 
her exact little handwriting are these words : — 

" Planted in Potts, 1720: An Almond Stone, an Eng- 
lish Wallnut, Cittron Seeds, Pistachica nutts, Red Damsons, 
Leamon seeds, Oring seeds and Daits." 



3i6 Old Time Gardens 

Poor Anne ! she died before she had time to be- 
come any one's grandmother. I hope her successor in 
matrimony, our forbear, cherished her Httle seedlings 
and rejoiced in the Lemon and Almond trees, though 
Anne herself was so speedily forgotten. She is, 
however, avenged by Time; for she is remembered 
better than the wife who took her place, through her 
simple flower-loving words. 

I am surprised at this aspersion on the Marigold 
as to its smell, for all the traditions of this flower 
show it to have been a great favorite in kitchen gar- 
dens ; and I have found that elderly folk are very 
apt to like its scent. IVTy father loved the flower 
and the fragrance, and liked to have a bowl of Mari- 
golds stand beside him on his library table. It was 
constantly carried to church as a " Sabbath-day posy," 
and its petals used as flavoring in soups and stews. 
Charles Lamb said it poisoned them. Canon Ella- 
combe writes that it has been banished in England 
to the gardens of cottages and old farm-houses ; it 
had a waning popularity in America, but was never 
wholly despised. 

How Edward Fitzgerald loved the African Mar- 
igold ! "Its grand color is so comfortable to us 
Spanish-like Paddies," he writes to Fanny Kemble 
in letters punctuated with little references to his 
garden flowers : letters so cheerful, too, with capi- 
tals ; " I love the old way of Capitals for Names," 
he says — and so do I; letters bearing two sur- 
prises, namely, the infrequent references to Omar 
Khayyam ; and the fact that Nasturtiums, not Roses, 
were his favorite flower. 



Joan Silver-pin 317 

The question of the agreeableness of a flower 
scent is a matter of pubHc opinion as well as personal 
choice. Environment and education influence us. 
In olden times every one liked certain scents deemed 
odious to-day. Parkinson's praise of Sweet Sultans 
was, " They are of so exceeding sweet a scent as it 
surpasses the best civet that is." Have you ever 
smelt civet ? You will need no words to tell you 
that the civet is a little cousin of the skunk. Cow- 
per could not talk with civet in the room ; most of 
us could not even breathe. The old herbalists call 
Privet sweet-scented. I don't know that it is strange 
to find a generation who loved civet and musk think- 
ing Privet pleasant-scented. Nearly all our modern 
botanists have copied the words of their predecessors; 
but I scarcely know what to say or to think when I 
find so exact an observer as John Burroughs calling 
Privet "faintly sweet-scented." I find it rankly ill- 
scented. 

The men of Elizabethan days were much more 
learned in perfumes and fonder of them than are 
most folk to-day. Authors and poets dwelt frankly 
upon them without seeming at all vulgar. Of 
course herbalists, from their choice of subject, were 
free to write of them at length, and they did so with 
evident delight. Nowadays the French realists are 
the only writers who boldly reckon with the sense 
of smell. It isn't deemed exactly respectable to 
dwell too much on smells, even pleasant ones ; so 
this chapter certainly must be brief. 

I suppose nine-tenths of all who love flower 
scents would give Violets as their favorite fragrance ; 



3i8 Old Time Gardens 

yet how quickly, in the hothouse Violets, can the 
scent become nauseous. I recall one formal lunch- 
eon whereat the many tables were mightily massed 
with violets ; and though all looked as fresh as day- 
break to the sight, some must have been gathered 
for a day or more, and the stale odor throughout 
the room was unbearable. But it is scarcely fair to 
decry a flower because of its scent in decay. Shake- 
speare wrote : — 

"Lilies festered smell far worse than weeds." 

Many of our Compositae are vile after standing in 
water in vases; Ox-eye Daisies, Rudbeckia, Zinnia, 
Sunflower, and even the wholesome Marigold. 
Delicate as is the scent of the Pansy, the smell of 
a bed of ancient Pansv plants is bad beyond words. 
The scent of the flowers of fruit-bearing trees is 
usually delightful ; but I cannot like the scent of 
Pear blossoms. 

I dislike much the rank smell of common yellow 
Daffx)dils and of many of that family. I can scarcely 
tolerate them even when freshly picked, upon a din- 
ner table. Some of the Jonquils are as sickening 
within doors as the Tuberose, though in both cases 
it is only because the scent is confined that it is cloy- 
ing. In the open air, at a slight distance, they smell 
as well as many Lilies, and the Poet's Narcissus is 
deemed by many delightful. 

I have ever found the scent ot Lilacs somewhat 
imperfect, not well rounded, not wholly satisfying; 
but one of my friends can never find in a bunch of 
our spring Lilacs any odor save that of illuminating 



Joan Silver-pin 



3^9 




'* a.< 



^»5' 



gas. I do wish he had not told me this ! Now 
when I stand beside my Lilac bush I feel like look- 
ing around anxiously to see where the gas is escaping. 
Linnaeus thought the perfume of Mignonette the 
purest ambro- 
sia. Another 
thinks that 
Mignonette 
has a doggy 
smell, as have 
several flowers; 
this is not 
whollv to their 
disparagement. 
Our cocker 
spaniel is 
sweeter than 
some flowers, 
but he is not 
a Mignonette. 
There be those 
who love most 
of all the scent 
of Heliotrope, 
which is to me 
a close, almost 
musty scent. 

I have even known of one or two who disliked 
the scent of Roses, and the Rose itself has been ab- 
horred. Marie de' Medici would not even look at 
a painting or carving of a Rose. The Chevalier de 
Guise, had a loathing for Roses. Lady Heneage, one 






If- *'- 







r.- 




S :.. iM-*^^. 


ITiV 


** '^"■■J^W^ 




% — "jJgS^»=' 


\^' 




■' i^ 


'A*':*:srmiSfr.<iirM 



Old "War Office. 



320 Old Time Gardens 

of the maids of honor to Queen Elizabeth, was made 
very ill by the presence or scent of Roses. This 
illness was not akin to " Rose cold," which is the 
baneful companion of so many Americans, and 
which can conquer its victims in the most sudden 
and complete manner. 

Even my affection for Roses, and my intense 
love of their fragrance, shown in its most ineffable 
sweetness in the old pink Cabbage Rose, will not 
cause me to be silent as to the scent of some of the 
Rose sisters. Some of the Tea Roses, so lovely of 
texture, so delicate of hue, are sickening ; one has a 
suggestion of ether which is most offensive. " A 
Rose by any other name would smell as sweet," but 
not if its name (and its being) was the Persian Yellow. 
This beautiful double Rose of rich yellow was intro- 
duced to our gardens about 1830. It is infrequent 
now, though I find it in florists' lists ; and I suspect 
I know why. Of late years I have not seen it, but I 
have a remembrance of its uprootal from our garden. 
Mrs. Wright confirms my memory by calling it "a 
horrible thing — the Skunk Cabbage of the garden." 
It smells as if foul insects were hidden within it, a 
disgusting smell. I wonder whether poor Marie de' 
Medici hadn't had a whiff of it. A Persian Rose ! 
it cannot be possible that Omar Khayyam ever smelt 
it, or any of the Rose singers of Persia, else their 
praises would have turned to loathing as they fled 
from its presence. There are two or three yellow 
Roses which are not pleasing, but are not abhorrent 
as is the Persian Yellow. 

One evening last May I walked down the garden 



Joan Silver-pin 321 

path, then by the shadowy fence-side toward the 
barn. I was not wandering in the garden for sweet 
moonlight, for there was none ; nor for love of 
flowers, nor in admiration of any of nature's works, 
for it was very cold ; we even spoke of frost, as we 
ever do apprehensively on a chilly night in spring. 
The kitten was lost. She was in the shrubbery at 
the garden end, for I could hear her plaintive yowl- 
ing ; and I thus traced her. I gathered her up, purr- 
ing and clawing, when I heard by my side a cross 
rustling of leaves and another complaining voice. It 
was the Crown-imperial, unmindful or unwitting of 
my presence, and muttering peevishly : " Here I am, 
out of fashion, and therefore out of the world ! torn 
away from the honored border by the front door 
path, and even set away from the broad garden beds, 
and thrust with sunflowers and other plants of no 
social position whatever down here behind the barn, 
where, she dares to say, we ' can all smell to heaven 
together.' 

"What airs, forsooth ! these twentieth century chil- 
dren put on ! Smell to heaven, indeed ! I wish her 
grandfather could have heard her! He didn't make 
such a fuss about smells when I was young, nor 
did any one else ; no one's nose was so over-nice. 
Every spring when I came up, glorious in my dress 
of scarlet and green, and hung with my jewels of 
pearls, they were all glad to see me and to smell me, 
too ; and well they might be, for there was a rotten- 
appley, old-potatoey smell in the cellar which per- 
vaded the whole house when doors were closed. 
And when the frost came up from the ground the 



322 Old Time Gardens 

old sink drain at the kitchen door rendered up to 
the spring sunshine all the combined vapors of all 
the dish-water of all the winter. The barn and hen- 
house and cow-house reeked in the sunlight, but the 
pigpen easily conquered them all. There was an 
ancient cesspool fir too near the kitchen door, under- 
ground and not to bj seen, but present, nevertheless. 
A hogshead of rain-water stood at the cellar door, 
and one at the end of the barn — to water the flowers 
with — they fancied rotten rain-water made flowers 
grow! A foul dve-tub was ever reeking in every 
kitchen chimney corner, a culminating horror in 
stenches; and vessels ot ancient soap grease festered 
in the outer shed, the grease collected through the 
winter and waiting for the spring soap-making. The 
vapor of sour milk, ever present, was ot little moment 
— w^hen there was so much else so much worse. 
There wasn't a bath-tub in the grandfather's house, 
nor in any other house in town, nor any too much 
bathing in winter, either, I am sure, in icy well-water 
in icier sleeping rooms. The windows were care- 
fully closed all winter long, but the open fireplaces 
managed to save the life of the inmates, though the 
walls and rafters were hung with millions of germs 
which every one knows are all the wickeder when 
they doii't smell, because you take no care, fancying 
they are not there. But the grandfather knew 
naught of germs — and was happy. The trees 
shaded the house so that the roof was always damp. 
Oh, how those germs grew and multiplied in the 
grateful shade of those lovely trees, and how mould 
and rust rejoiced. Well might people turn from all 



Joan Silver-pin 323 

these sights and scents to me. The grandfather and 
his wife, when they were young, as when they were 
in middle age, and when they were old, walked every 
early spring day at set of sun, slowly down the front 
path, looking at every flower, every bud ; pulling 
a tiny weed, gathering a choice flower, breaking a 
withered sprig; and they ever lingered long and 
happily by my side. And he always said, ' Wife ! 
isn't this Crown-imperial a glorious plant ? so stately, 
so perfect in form, such an expression of life, and 
such a personification of spring! ' 'Yes, father,' she 
would answer quickly, ' but don't pick it.' Why, I 
should have resented even that word had she referred 
to my perfume. She meant that the garden border 
could not spare -me. The children never could pick 
me, even the naughtiest ones did not dare to ; but 
they could pull all the little upstart Ladies' Delights 
and Violets they wished. And yet, with all this fam- 
ily homage which should make me a family totem, 
here I am, stuck down by the barn — I, who sprung 
from the blood of a king, the great Gustavus Adol- 
phus — and was sung by a poet two centuries ago in 
the famous Garland of Julia. The old Jesuit poet 
Rapin said of me, ' No flower aspires in pomp and 
state so high.' 

" Read this page from that master-herbalist, John 
Gerarde, telling of the rare beauties within my golden 
cup. 

"A very intelligent and respectable old gentleman 
named Parkinson, who knew far more about flowers 
than flighty folk do nowadays, loved me well and 
wrote of me, ' The Crown-imperial, for its stately 



324 Old Time Gardens 

beautifulnesse deserveth the first place in this our 
garden of delight to be here entreated of before all 
other Lilies.' He had good sense. It was not I 
who was stigmatized by him as Joan Silver-pin. He 
spoke very plainly and verv sensibly of my per- 
fume ; there was no nonsense in his notions, he told 
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
truth : ' The whole plant and every part thereof, 
as well as rootes as leaves and floures doe smell 
somewhat strong, as it were the savour of a foxe, 
so that if any doe but near it, he can but smell it, 
yet is not unwholesome.' 

" How different all is to-day in literature, as well 
as in flower culture. Now there are low, coarse at- 
tempts at wit that fairly wilt a sensitive nature like 
mine. There is one miserable Man who comes to 
this garden, -and who thinks he is a Poet; I will not 
repeat his wretched rhymes. But only yesterday, 
when he stood looking superciliously down upon us, 
he said sneeringly, 'Yes, spring is here, balmy spring; 
we know her presence without seeing her face or 
hearing her voice ; for the Skunk Cabbage is unfurled 
in the swamps, and the Crown-imperial is blooming 
in the garden.' Think of his presuming to set me 
alongside that low Skunk Cabbage — me with my 
' stately beautifulness.' 

" Little do people nowadays know about scents 
anyway, when their botanists and naturalists write 
that the Privet bloom is * pleasingly fragrant,' 
and one dame set last summer a dish of Privet on 
her dining table before many guests. Privet ! with 
its ancient and fishlike smell ! And another tells 



Of the Hifterie of Plants. 



Cnatlmftndi'. The Crowne ImyoWU 




CtTtnt Imtiritti tmrn fembut 
Crornic ImpaiaUnritfa the Gsai, 




Ctrnatrnfctitlutliifli"""^'- . .. 
Tbe double Cionric Impetiall, 




hcjjs dowmrard as it iverc bcis : !■ coloti^ 
it h ycllowifh ;Oc togjue you the iroeeo- 
lour, which bywords otherwifc cannot be 
exprc(rcd,if you lay fjpbcirics in (Ircpe in 
fcirc water for the (fice of tivo houitv*! 
mix a httic Saftoii with that infufioi^anJ 
Jjyitvpon pJiicr, it ftiewcth the fakSt 
colour to iimnc or illumine the floure 
withall. The bickfideofthcfiiJ floure is 
ftrcaked with purolifh lines , which doth 
greatly fct forth tlicbcaiity thcrcot.In the 
bortomeofcacli oftbcfc bells there is pla- 
ced fix drops of mod clt-ctc (hining fiveef 
watcr.in rart like lugar.rcfcmbling in (hew 
fairc Orient |x.ar!cs , the which drops if 
you Mlic away, there do Immediately ap- 
pcarc the like : notwith'f .ndiiig if they 
may be fuffcred to (land .;lll in the floote 
according to his onne nature, they wil ne- 
iicrfaIIaivav,nonotifyou flrikc the plant 
vntill it be broken. Amongft thcfedrop* 
there Oandcth outacertainc pcftell^as alfo 
fiindry final chines tipped with fmall pen- 
dant! like tliofc of the Lillyrabotie the 
whole floiires there grmvcs a tuft of green 
leaucs like thofcvpon the (lalkc.butrmal- 
ler. After the flonrcs be faded, tlicrc fol- 
low cods or rced-vcfTcIs fix fi]iiare,H herein 



Crown Imperial. A Page from Gerarde's Herhall. 



Joan Silver-pin 325 

of the fragrant delight of flowering Buckwheat — 
may the breezes blow such fragrance far from me ! 
But why dwell on perfumes; flowers were made to 
look at, not to smell ; sprays of Sweet Balm or Basil 
leaves outsweeten every flower, and make no pretence 
or thought of beauty ; render to each its own virtues, 
and try not to engross the charm of another. 

" I was indeed the queen of the garden, and here 
I am exiled behind the barn. Life is not worth liv- 
ing. I won't come up again. She will walk through 
the garden next May and say, ' How dull and shabby 
the garden looks this year! the spring is backward, 
everything has run to leaves, nothing is in bloom, 
we must buy more fertilizer, we must get a new gar- 
dener, we must get more plants and slips and seeds 
and bulbs, it is fearfully discouraging, 1 never saw 
anything so gone off! ' then perhaps she will remem- 
ber, and regret the friend of her grandparents, the 
Crown-imperial — whom she thrust from her Garden 
of Delight." 



CHAPTER XV 

CHILDHOOD IN A GARDEN 

"I see the garden thicket's shade 

Where all the summer long we played. 
And gardens set and houses made. 
Our early work and late." 

— Mary Howitt. 




OW we thank God for the noble 
traits of our ancestors ; and our 
hearts fill with gratitude for the 
tenderness, the patience, the lov- 
ing kindness of our parents ; I 
have an infinite deal for which to 
be sincerely grateful ; but for 
nothing am I now more happy than that there were 
given to me a flower-loving father and mother. To 
that flower-loving father and mother I offer in ten- 
derest memory equal gratitude for a childhood spent 
in a garden. 

Winter as well as summer gave us many happy 
garden hours. Sometimes a sudden thaw of heavy 
snow and an equally quick frost formed a miniature 
pond for sheltered skating at the lower end of the 
garden. A frozen crust of snow (which our winters 
nowadays so seldom afford) gave other joys. And 
the delights of making a snow man, or a snow fort, 

326 



Childhood in a Garden 327 

even of rolling great globes of snow, were infinite and 
varied. More subtle was the charm of shaping cer- 
tain things from dried twigs and evergreen sprigs, 
and pouring water over them to freeze into a beauti- 
ful resemblance of the original form. These might 
be the ornate initials or name of a dear girl friend, or 
a tiny tower or pagoda. I once had a real winter 
garden in miniature set in twigs of cedar and spruce, 
and frozen into a fairy garden. 

In summertime the old-fashioned garden was a 
paradise for a child ; the long warm days saw the 
fresh telling of child to child, by that curiously subtle 
system of transmission which exists everywhere 
among happy children, of quaint flower customs, 
known to centuries of English-speaking children, 
and also some newer customs developed by the fit- 
ness of local flowers for such games and plays. 

The Countess Potocka says the intense enjoy- 
ment of nature is a sixth sense. We are not born 
with this good gift, nor do we often acquire it in 
later life; it comes through our rearing. The ful- 
ness of delight in a garden is the bequest of a 
childhood spent in a garden. No study or posses- 
sion of flowers in mature years can afford gratifica- 
tion equal to that conferred by childish associations 
with them ; by the sudden recollection of flower 
lore, the memory of child friendships, the recalling 
of games or toys made of flowers : you cannot ex- 
plain it ; it seems a concentration, an extract of all 
the sunshine and all the beauty of those happy 
summers of our lives when the whole day and 
every day was spent among flowers. The sober 



328 



Old Time Gardens 




Milkweed Seed. 



teachings of science in later years can never make up 
the loss to children debarred of this inheritance, who 



Childhood in a Garden 329 

have grown up knowing not when " the summer 
comes with bee and flower." 

A garden childhood gives more sources of delight 
to the senses in after life than come from beautiful 
color and fine fragrance. Have you pleasure in the 
contact of a flower? Do you like its touch as well 
as its perfume ? Do you love to feel a Lilac spray 
brush your cheek in the cool of the evening? Do 
you like to bury your face in a bunch of Roses ? 
How frail and papery is the Larkspur! And how 
silky is the Poppy ! A Locust bloom is a fringe of 
sweetness ; and how very doubtful is the touch of the 
Lily — an unpleasant thick sleekness. The Clove 
Carnation is the best of all. It feels just as it 
smells. These and scores more give me pleasure 
through their touch, the result of constant handling 
of flowers when I was a child. 

There were harmful flowers in the old garden — 
among them the Monk's-hood; we never touched 
it, except warily. Doubtless we were warned, but 
we knew it by instinct and did not need to be told. 
I always used to see in modest homes great tubs 
each with a flourishing Oleander tree. I have set 
out scores of little slips of Oleander, just as I planted 
Orange seeds. I seldom see Oleanders now ; I 
wonder whether the plant has been banished on 
account of its poisonous properties. I heard of but 
one fatal case of Oleander poisoning — and that was 
doubtful. A little child, the sister of one of my 
playmates, died suddenly in great distress. Several 
months after her death the mother was told that the 
leaves of the Oleander were poisonous, when she 



330 Old Time Gardens 

recalled that the child had eaten them on the day of 
her death. 

Oleander blossoms were lovely in shape and color. 
Edward Fitzgerald writes to Fanny Kemble : 
" Don't you love the Oleander ? So clean in its 
Leaves and Stem, as so beautiful in its Flower ; lov- 
ing to stand in water which it drinks up fast. I 
have written all my best Mss. with a Pen that has 
been held with its nib in water for more than a fort- 
night — Charles Keene's recipe for keeping Pens in 
condition — Oleander-like." This, written in 1882, 
must, even at that recent date, refer to quill pens. 

The lines of Mary Howitt's, quoted at the begin- 
ning of this chapter, ring to me so true ; there is 
in them no mock sentiment, it is the real thing, — 
"the garden thicket's shade," little "cubby houses" 
under the close-growing stems of Lilac and Syringa, 
with an old thick shawl outspread on the damp 
earth for a carpet. Oh, how hot and scant the air 
was in the green light of those close " garden- 
thickets," those " Lilac ambushes," which were really 
not half so pleasant as the cooler seats on the grass 
under the trees, but which we clung to with a 
warmth equal to their temperature. 

Let us peer into these garden thickets at these 
happy little girls, fantastic in their garden dress. 
Their hair is hung thick with Dandelion curls, made 
from pale green opal-tinted stems that have 
grown long under the shrubbery and Box borders. 
Around their necks are childish wampum, strings of 
Dandelion beads or Daisy chains. More delicate 
wreaths for the neck or hair were made from the 




o 



Childhood in a Garden ^3 ^ 

blossoms of the Four-o'clock or the petals of Phlox 
or Lilacs, threaded with pretty alternation of color. 
Fuchsias were hung at the ears for eardrops, green 
leaves were pinned with leaf stems into little caps 
and bonnets and aprons. Foxgloves made dainty 
children's gloves. Truly the garden-bred child 
went in gay attire. 

That exquisite thing, the seed of Milkweed (shov/n 
on page 328), furnished abundant playthings. The 
plant was sternly exterminated in our garden, but 
sallies into a neighboring field provided supplies for 
fairy cradles with tiny pillows of silvery silk. 

One of the early impulses of infancy is to put every- 
thing in the mouth ; this impulse makes the creeping 
days of some children a period of constant watch- 
fulness and terror to their apprehensive guardians. 
When the children are older and can walk in the 
garden or edge of the woods, a fresh anxiety arises ; 
for a certain savagery in their make-up makes them 
regard every growing thing, not as an object to look 
at or even to play with, but to eat. It is a relief to 
the mother when the child grows beyond the savage, 
and falls under the dominion of tradition and folk- 
lore, communicated to him by other children by 
that subtle power of enlightenment common to chil- 
dren, which seems more like instinct than instruction. 
The child still eats, but he makes distinctions, and 
seldom touches harmful leaves or seeds or berries. 
He has an astonishing range : roots, twigs, leaves, 
bark, tendrils, fruit, berries, flowers, buds, seeds, 
all alike serve for food. Young shoots of Sweet- 
brier and Blackberry are nibbled as well as the 



2;^2 Old Time Gardens 

branches of young Birch. Grape tendrils, too, 
have an acid zest, as do Sorrel leaves. Wild Rose 
hips and the drupes ot dwart Cornel are chewed. 
The leaf buds ot Spruce and Linden are also tasted. 
I hear that some children in some places eat the 
young fronds of Cinnamon Fern, but I never saw it 
done. Seeds of Pumpkins and Sunflowers were edi- 
ble, as well as Hollyhock cheeses. There was one 
Slipperv Elm tree which we know in our town, and 
we took ample toll of it. Cherry gum and l^lum 
gum are chewed, as well as the gum of Spruce trees. 
There was a boy who used sometimes to intrude on 
our girl's paradise, since he was the son of a neigh- 
bor, and he said he ate raw Turnips, and some- 
thing he called Pig-nuts — I wonder what they 
were. 

Those childish customs linger long in our minds, 
or rather in our subconsciousness. I never walk 
through an old garden without wishing to nibble and 
browse on the leaves and stems which I ate as a child, 
without sucking a drop of honev from certain flow- 
ers. I do it not with intent, but I waken to realiza- 
tion with the petal of Trumpet Honeysuckle in my 
hand and its drop of ambrosia on my lips. 

Children care far less for scent and perfection in a 
flower than they do for color, and, above all, for 
desirabilitv and adaptability of form, this desirability 
being afforded by the titness of the flower for the tra- 
ditional games and plays. The favorite flowers of my 
childhood were three noble creatures. Hollyhocks, 
Canterbury Bells, and Foxgloves, all three were 
scentless. I cannot think of a child's summer in a 



Childhood in a Garden 



333 



garden without these three old favorites of history 
and folk-lore. Of course we enjoyed the earlier 
flower blooms and played happily with them ere 
our dearest treasures came to us ; but never had we 
full variety, zest, and satisfaction till this trio were 




Foxgloves in a Narragansett Garden. 



in midsummer bloom. There was a little gawky, 
crudely-shaped wooden doll of German manufac- 
ture sold in Worcester which I never saw else- 
where ; they were kept for sale by old Waxier, the 
German basket maker, a. most respected citizen, 
whose name I now learn was not Waxier but Weichs- 



334 01<i Time Gardens 

ler. These dolls came in three sizes, the five-cent 
size was a midsummer favorite, because on its feature- 
less head the blossoms of the Canterbury Bells 
fitted like a high azure cap, I can see rows of these 
wooden creatures sitting, thus crowned, stiffly around 
the trunk of the old Seckel Pear tree at a doll's tea- 
party. 

By the constant trampling of our childish feet the 
earth at the end of the garden path was hard and 
smooth under the shadow of the Lilac trees near 
our garden fence ; and this hard path, remote from 
wanderers in the garden, made a splendid plateau to 
use for flower balls. Once we fitted it up as a 
palace ; circular walls of Balsam flowers set closely 
together shaped the ball-room. The dancers were 
blue and white Canterbury Bells. Quadrilles were 
placed of little twigs, or strong flower stalks set 
firmly upright in the hard trodden earth, and on 
each of these a flower bell was hung so that the 
pretty reflexion of the scalloped edges of the corolla 
just touched the ground as the hooped petticoats 
swayed lightly in the wind. 

We used to catch bumblebees in the Canterbury 
Bells, and hear them buzz and bump and tear their 
way out to liberty. We held the edges of the 
flower tightly pinched together, and were never 
stung. Besides its adaptability as a toy for children, 
the Canterbury Bell was beloved for its beauty in 
the garden. An appropriate folk name for it is 
Fair-in-sight. Healthy clumps grow tall and stately, 
towering up as high as childish heads ; and the firm 
stalks are hung so closely in bloom. Nowadays 




Hollyhocks in Garden of Kimball Homestead, Portsmouth, 
New Hampshire. 



Childhood in a Garden 



335 



people plant expanses of Canterbury Bells ; one at 
the beautiful garden at White Birches, Elmhurst, 
Illinois, is shown on page iii. I do not like this 
as well as the planting in our home garden when 
they are set in a mixed border, as shown opposite 
page 416. Our tastes in the flower world are largely 
influenced by what we were wonted to in childhood, 
not only in the selection of flowers, but in their 
placing in our gardens. The Canterbury Bell has 
historical interest through its being named for the 
bells borne by pilgrims to the shrine at Canterbury. 
I have been delighted to see plants of these sturdy 
garden favorites offered for sale of late years in New 
York streets in springtime, by street venders, who 
now show a tendency to throw aside Callas, Lilies, 
Tuberoses, and flowers of such ilk, and substitute 
shrubs and seedlings of hardy growth and satisfac- 
tory flowering. But it filled me with regret, to 
hear the pretty historic name — Canterbury Bells 
— changed in so short a residence in the city, by 
these Italian and German tongues to Gingerbread 
Bells — a sad debasement. Native New Knglanders 
have seldom forgotten or altered an old flower name, 
and very rarely transferred it to another plant, even 
in two centuries of everyday usage. But I am glad 
to know that the flower will bloom in the flower 
pot or soap box in the dingy window of the city 
poor, or in the square foot of earth of the city 
squatter, even if it be called Gingerbread Bells. 

I think we may safely aflirm that the Hollyhock 
is the most popular, and most widely known, of all 
old-fashioned flowers. It is loved for its beauty. 



336 Old Time Gardens 

its associations, its adaptiveness. It is such a deco- 
rative flower, and looks of so much distinction in so 
many places. It is invaluable to the landscape gar- 
dener and to the architect ; and might be named the 
wallflower, since it looks so well growing by every 
wall. I like it there, or by a fence-side, or in a 
corner, better than in the middle of flower beds. 
How many garden pictures have Hollyhocks? Sir 
Joshua Reynolds even used them as accessories of 
his portraits. They usually grow so well and bloom 
so freely. I have seen them in Connecticut growing 
wild — garden strays, standing up by ruined stone 
walls in a pasture with as much grace of grouping, 
as good form, as if they had been planted by our 
most skilful gardeners or architects. Many illus- 
trations of them are given in this book ; I need 
scarcely refer to them ; opposite page 334 is shown 
a part of the four hundred stalks of rich bloom in a 
Portsmouth garden. There is a pretty semidouble 
Hollyhock with a single row of broad outer petals 
and a smaller double rosette for the centre ; but the 
single flowers are far more efi'ective. I like well the 
old single crimson flower, but the yellow ones are, I 
believe, the loveliest ; a row of the yellow and white 
ones against an old brick wall is perfection. I can 
never repay to the Hollyhock the debt of gratitude 
I owe for the happy hours it furnished to me in my 
childhood. Its reflexed petals could be tied into 
such lovely silken-garbed dolls ; its " cheeses " were 
one of the staple food supplies of our dolls' larder. 
I am sure in my childhood I would have warmly 
chosen the Hollyhock as my favorite flower. 



Childhood in a Garden 337 

The sixty-two folk names of the Foxglove give 
ample proof of its closeness to humanity ; it is a 
familiar flower, a home flower. Of these many 
names I never heard but two in New England, and 
those but once; an old Irish gardener called the 
flowers Fairy Thimbles, and an English servant. 
Pops — this from the well-known habit of popping 
the petals on the palm of the hand. We used to 
build little columns of these Foxgloves by thrusting 
one within another, alternating purple and white ; 
and we wore them for gloves, and placed them as 
foolscaps on the heads of tiny dolls. The beauty 
of the Foxglove in the garden is unquestioned ; the 
spires of white bloom are, as Cotton Mather said of 
a pious and painful Puritan preacher, "a shining 
and white light in a golden candlestick improved for 
the sweet felicity of Mankind and to the honour 
of our Maker." 

Opposite page 340 is a glimpse of a Box-edged 
garden in Worcester, whose blossoming has been a 
delight to me every summer of my entire life. In 
my childhood this home was that of flower-loving 
neighbors who had an established and constant sys- 
tem of exchange with my mother and other neigh- 
bors of flowers, plants, seeds, slips, and bulbs. The 
garden was serene with an atmosphere of worthy old 
age ; you wondered how any man so old could so 
constantly plant, weed, prune, and hoe until you 
saw how he loved his flowers, and how his wife loved 
them. The Roses, Peonies, and Flower de Luce 
in this garden are sixty years old, and the Box also ; 
the shrubs are almost trees. Nothing seems to be 



338 Old Time Gardens 

transplanted, yet all flourish ; I suppose some plants 
must he pulled up, sometimes, else the garden would 
be a thicket. The varying grading of city streets 
has left this garden in a little valley sheltered from 
winds and open to the sun's rays. Here bloom 
Crocuses, Snowdrops, Grape Hyacinths, and some- 
times Tulips, before any neighbor has a blossom 
and scarce a leaf. On a Sunday noon in April there 
are always flower lovers hanging over the low fences, 
and gazing at the welcome early blooms. Here it 
ever, 

*' Winter, slumbering in the open air. 

Wears on his smiling face a dream ot spring." 

A close cloud ot Box-scent hangs (>\cf this garilcn, 
even in midwinter; sometimes the Box edgings 
grow until no one can walk between ; then drastic 
measin-es have to be taken, and the rows K)ok 
ragged for a time. 

I think much of my love of Box comes from 
happy associations with this garden. I used to like 
to go there with my mother when she went on 
what the Japanese would call "garden-viewing" 
visits, for at the lower end of the garden was a small 
orchard of the tinest playhouse Apple trees 1 ever 
climbed (and 1 have had much experience), and 
some large trees bearing little globular early Pears; 
and there were rows of bushes of golden " Honey- 
blob " Gooseberries. The Apple trees are there 
still, but the Ciooseberry bushes are gone. I 
looked tor them this summer eagerly, but in vain; 
I presume the berries wovdd have been sour had I 
found them. 



Childhood in a Garden 



339 



In many old New England gardens the close 
juxtaposition and even intermingling of vegetables 
and fruits with the flowers gave a sense of homely 
simplicity and usefulness which did not detract 




HoiiynocKs at Tudor Place. 



from the garden's interest, and added much to the 
child's pleasure. At the lower end of the long 
flower border in our garden, grew " Mourning 
Brides," white, pale lavender, and purple brown in 
tint. They opened under the shadow of a row of 



340 Old Time Gardens 

Gooseberry bushes. I seldom see Gooseberry 
bushes nowadays in any gardens, whether on farms 
or in nurseries ; they seem to be an antiquated fruit. 

I have in my memory many other customs of 
childhood in the garden ; some of them I have told 
in my book Child Life in Colonial Days, and there 
are scores more which I have not recounted, but 
most of them were peculiar to my own fanciful 
childhood, and 1 will not recount them here. 

One of the most exquisite of Mrs. Browning's 
poems is The Lost Bower ; it is endeared to me be- 
cause it expresses so fully a childish bereavement 
of my own, for I have a lost garden. Somewhere, 
in my childhood, I saw this beautiful garden, filled 
with radiant blossoms, rich with fruit and berries, 
set with beehives, rabbit hutches, and a dove cote, 
and enclosed about with hedges ; and through it 
ran a purling brook — a thing I ever longed for in 
my home garden. All one happy summer after- 
noon I played in it, and gathered from its beds and 
borders at will — and I have never seen it since. 
When I was still a child I used to ask to return to 
it, but no one seemed to understand ; and when I 
was grown I asked where it was, describing it in 
every detail, and the only answer was that it was 
a dream, I had never seen and played in such a 
garden. This lost garden has become to me an 
emblem, as was the lost bower to Mrs. Browning, 
of the losses of life ; but I did not lose all ; while 
memory lasts I shall ever possess the happiness of 
my childhood passed in our home garden. 



CHAPTER XVI 



MEETIN SEED AND SABBATH DAY POSIES 




«' I touched a thought, I know 
Has tantalized me many times. 
Help me to hold it ! First it left 
The yellowing Fennel run to seed." 

— Robert Browning. 

Y "thought" is the association of 
certain flowers with Sunday ; the 
fact that special flowers and leaves 
and seeds, Fennel, Dill, and 
Southernwood, were held to be 
fitting and meet to carry to the 
Sunday service. "Help me to hold it" — to re- 
cord those simple customs of the country-side ere 
they are forgotten. 

In the herb garden grew three free-growing plants, 
all three called indifl-erently in country tongue, 
" meetin' seed." They were Fennel, Dill, and Cara- 
way, and similar in growth and seed. Caraway is 
shown on page 342. Their name was given because, 
in summer days of years gone by, nearly every woman 
and child carried to " meeting " on Sundays, bunches 
of the ripe seeds of one or all of these three plants, 
to nibble throughout the long prayers and sermon. 
It is fancied that these herbs were anti-soporific, 
but I find no record of such power. On the con- 

341 



342 



Old Time Gardens 



trary, Galen says Dill " procureth sleep, wherefore 
garlands of Dill are worn at feasts." A far more 
probable reason for its presence at church was the 
quality assigned to it by Pliny and other herbalists 
down to Gerarde, that of staying the " yeox or hicket 
or hicquet," otherwise the hiccough. If we can 
judge by the manifold remedies offered to allay this 

affliction, it was 
certainly very 
prevalent in an- 
cient times. 
Cotton Mather 
wrote a bulky 
medical treatise 
entitled The 
Angel of Be- 
thesda. It was 
never printed ; 
the manuscript 
is owned by the 
American Anti- 
quarian Society. 
The character of 
this medico-reli- 
gious book may be judged by this opening sentence 
of his chapter on the hiccough: — 

"The Hiccough or the Hicox rather, for it's a Teutonic 
word that signifies to sob, appears a Lively Emblem of the 
battle between the Flesh and the Spirit in the Life of Piety. 
The Conflict in the Pious Mind gives all the Trouble and 
same uneasiness as Hickox. Death puts an end to the 
Conflict." 




Caraway. 



Meetin' Seed and Sabbath Day Posies 343 

Parson Mather gives Tansy and Caraway as reme- 
dies for the hiccough, but far better still — spiders, 
prepared in various odious ways ; I prefer Dill. 

Peter Parley said that " a sprig of Fennel was the 
theological smelling-bottle of the tender sex, and not 
unfrequently of the men, who from long sitting in 
the sanctuary, after a week of labor in the field, found 
themselves tempted to sleep, would sometimes bor- 
row a sprig of Fennel, to exorcise the fiend that 
threatened their spiritual welfare." 

Old-fashioned folk kept up a constant nibbling 
in church, not only of these three seeds, but of bits 
of Cinnamon or Lovage root, or, more commonly 
still, the roots of Sweet Flag. Many children went 
to brooksides and the banks of ponds to gather 
these roots. This pleasure was denied to us, but 
we had a Flag root purveyor, our milkman's 
daughter. This milkman, who lived on a lonely 
farm, used often to take with him on his daily 
rounds his little daughter. She sat with him on 
the front seat of his queer cart in summer and 
his • queerer pung in winter, an odd little figure, 
with a face of gypsylike beauty which could scarcely 
be seen in the depths of the Shaker sunbonnet 
or pumpkin hood. If my mother chanced to see 
her, she gave the child an orange, or a few figs, or 
some little cakes, or almonds and raisins; in return 
the child would throw out to us violently roots of 
Sweet Flag, Wild Ginger, Snakeroot, Sassafras, and 
Apples or Pears, which she carried in a deep detached 
pocket at her side. She never spoke, and the milk- 
man confided to my mother that he "took her around 



344 



Old Time Gardens 



because she was so wild," by which he meant timid. 
We were firmly convinced that the child could not 
walk nor speak, and had no ears ; and we were much 
surprised when she walked down the aisle of our 
church one Sunday as actively as any child could, 
displaying very natural ears. Her father had 
bought a home in the town that she might go to 

school. He was 
rewarded by her 
development 
into one of those 
scholars of phe- 
nomenal brill- 
iancy, such as 
are occasionally 
produced from 
New England 
farmers' families. 
She also became 
a beauty of most 
unusual type. 
At her father's 
death she "went 
West." I have 
always expected to read of her as of marked life in 
some way, but I never have. Of course her family 
name may have been changed by marriage ; but her 
Christian name, Appoline, was so unusual I could 
certainly trace her. If my wild and beautiful little 
milk girl reads these lines, I hope she will forgive 
me, for she certainly was queer. 

When her residence was in town, Appoline did 




Sun-dial of Jonathan Fairbanks. 



Meetin' Seed and Sabbath Day Posies 345 

not cease her gifts of country treasures. She brought 
on spring Sundays a very delightful addition to our 
Sabbath day nibblings and browsings, the most deli- 
cious mouthful of all the treasures of New England 
woods, what we called Pippins, the first tender leaves 
of the aromatic Checkerberry. In the autumn the 
spicy berries of the same plant filled many a paper 
cornucopia which was secretly conveyed to us. 

It was also a universal custom among the elder 
folk to carry a Sunday posy; the stems, were dis- 
creetly enwrapped with the folded handkerchief 
which also concealed the sprig of Fennel. Dean 
Hole tells us that a sprig of Southernwood was 
always seen in the Sunday smocks of English farm 
folk. Mary Howitt, in her poem, The Poor Mans 
Garden J has this verse : — 

"And here on Sabbath mornings 
The goodman comes to get 
His Sunday nosegay — Moss Rose bud. 
White Pink, and Mignonette." 

This shows to me that the church posy was just 
as common in England as in America; in domestic 
and social customs we can never disassociate our- 
selves from England; our ways, our deeds, are all 
English. 

Thoreau noted with pleasure when, at the last of 
June, the young men of Concord "walked slowly 
and soberly to church, in their best clothes, each 
with a Pond Lily in his hand or bosom, with as 
long a stem as he could get." And he adds 
thereto almost the only decorous and conven- 



346 



Old Time Gardens 



tional picture he gives of himself, that he used in 
early life to go thus to church, smelling a Pond Lily, 
" its odor contrasting with and atoning for that of 
the sermon." He associated this universal bearing 
of the Lily with a very natural act, that of the first 

spring swim and 



<-^- 



r\ 



'P 



^c= 



bath, and pictured 
with delight the 
quiet Sabbath still- 
ness and the pure 
openingflowers. He 
said the flower had 
become typical to 
him equally of a 
Sunday morning 
swim and of church- 
going. He adds 
that the young wo- 
men carried on this 
floral Sunday, as a 
companion flower, 
their first Rose. 

This Sabbath 
bearing of the early 

Bronze Sun-dial on Dutch Reformed Church, Water LilieS may 
West End Avenue, New York. have been a local 

custom ; a few miles 
from Walden Pond and Concord an old kinsman of 
mine throughout his long life (which closed twenty 
years ago) carried Water Lilies on summer Sundays to 
church; and starting with neighborly intent a short 
time before the usual hour of church service, he 





Meetin' Seed and Sabbath Day Posies 347 



placed a single beautiful Lily in the pew of each of 
his old friends. All knew who was the flower bearer, 
and gentle smiles and nods of thanks would radiate 
across the old church to him. These lilies were 
gathered for him freshly each Sabbath morning by 
the young men of his family, who, as Thoreau tells, 
all took their 
morning bath in 
the pond through- 
out the summer. 
There were 
conventions in 
these Sunday 
posies. I never 
heard of carrying 
sprays of Lemon 
Verbena or Rose 
Geranium, or any 
of the strong- 
scented herbs of 
the Mint family ; 
but throughout 
eastern Massa- 
chusetts, espe- 
cially in Concord 
and Wayland, a 
favorite posy was 
a spray of the refreshing, soft-textured leaves from 
what country folk called the Tongue plant — which 
was none other than Costmary, also called Beaver 
tongue, and Patagonian mint. As there has been 
recently much interest and discussion anent this 




Sun-dial on Boulder. Swiftwater, 
Pennsylvania. 



348 Old Time Gardens 

Tongue plant, I here give its botanical name Chrys- 
anthemum balsamita^ var. tanacetoides. A far more 
popular Sunday posy than any blossom was a sprig 
of Southernwood, known also everywhere as Lad's- 
love, and occasionally as Old Man and Kiss-me- 
quick-and-go. It was also termed Meeting plant 
from this universal Sunday use. 

A restless little child was once handed during 
the church services in summer a bunch of Cara- 
way seeds, and a goodly sprig of Southernwood. 
The little girl's mother listened earnestly to the 
long sermon, and was horrified at its close to find 
that her child had eaten the entire bunch of Caraway, 
stems and seeds, and all the bitter Southernwood. 
She was hurried out of church to the village doctor's, 
and spent a very unhappy hour or two as the result 
of her Nebuchadnezzar-like gorging. 

Like many New Englanders, I dearly love the 
scent of Southernwood : — 

♦' I'll give to him 
Who gathers me, more sweetness than he knows 
Without me — more than any Lily could, 
I, that am flowerless, being Southernwood." 

Southernwood bears a balmier breath than is 
ever borne by many blossoms, for it is sweet with 
the fragrance of memory. The scent that has 
been loved for centuries, the leaves that have been 
pressed to the hearts of fair maids, as they ques- 
tioned of love, are indeed endeared. 

Southernwood was a plant of vast powers. It 
was named in the fourteenth century as potent to 



Meetln* Seed and Sabbath Day Posies 349 



cure talking in sleep, and other " vanityes of the 
heade." An old Salem sea captain had this recipe for 
baldness : " Take a quantitye of Suthernwoode and 
put it upon kindled coale to burn and being made 
into a powder mix it with oyl of radiches, and anoynt 
a bald head and 
you shall see 
great e x peri- 
ences." The ly- 
ing old Dispensa- 
tory of Culpepper 
gave a rule to mix 
the ashes of 
Southernwocjd 
with " Old Sailer 
Oyl" which 
" helpeth those 
that are hair- 
fallen and bald." 

Far pleasanter 
were the uses of 
the plant as a love 
charm. Pliny did 
not disdain to 
counsel putting 
Southernwood 
under the pillow to make one dream of a lover. A 
sprig of Southernwood in an unmarried girl's shoe 
would bring to her the sight of her husband-to-be 
before night. 

Sixty years ago two young country folk of New 
England were married. The twain built them a 




Sun-dial at Emery Place, Brightwood, 
District of Columbia. 



35^ 



Old Time Gardens 



house and established their home. Since a sprig of 
Southernwood had played a romantic part in their 
courtship, each planted a bush at the side of the 




Sun-dial at Traveller's Rest. 



broad doorstone; and the husband, William, often 
thrust a bit of this Lad's-love from the flourishing 
bushes in the buttonhole of his woollen shirt, for he 
fancied the fresh scent of the leaves. 



Meetin' Seed and Sabbath Day Posies 351 

The twain had no children, and perhaps therefrom 
grew and increased in Hetty a fairly passionate love 
of exact order and neatness in her home — a trait 
which is not so common in New England house- 
wives as many fancy, and which does not always 
find equal growth and encouragement in New Eng- 
land husbands. William chafed under the frequent 
and bitter reproofs for the muddy shoes, dusty gar- 
ments, hanging straws and seeds which he brought 
into his wife's orderly paradise, and the jarring cul- 
minated one night over such a trifle, a green sprig 
of Lad's-love which he had dropped and trodden into 
the freshly washed floor of the kitchen, where it left 
a green stain on the spotless boards. 

The quarrel flamed high, and was followed by an 
ominous calm which was not broken at breakfast. 
It would be impossible to express in words Hetty's 
emotions when she crossed her threshold to set her 
shining milk tins in the morning sunlight, and saw 
on one side of the doorstone a yawning hole where 
had grown for ten years William's bunch of Lad's- 
love. He had driven to the next village to sell 
some grain, so she could search unseen for the van- 
ished emblem of domestic felicity, and soon she 
found it, in the ditch by the public road, already 
withered in the hot sun. 

When her husband went at nightfall to feed and 
water his cattle, he found the other bush of Lad's- 
love, which had been planted with such affectionate 
sentiment, trodden in the mire of the pigpen, under 
the feet of the swine. 

They lived together for thirty years after this 



352 Old Time Gardens 

crowning indignity. The grass grew green over the 
empty holes by the doorside, but he never forgave 
her, and they never spoke to each other save in 
direst necessity, and then in fewest words. Yet 
they were not wicked folk. She cared for his father 
and mother in the last years of their life with a 
devotion that was fairly pathetic when it was seen 
that the old man was untidy to a degree, and abso- 
lutely oblivious of all her orderly ways and wishes. 
At their death he sent for and " homed," as the 
expression ran, a brother of hers who was almost 
blind, and paid the expenses of her nephew through 
college — but he died unforgiving; the sight of that 
beloved Southernwood — in the pigpen — forever 
killed his affection. 



CHAPTER XVII 

SUN-DIALS 

" 'Tis an old dial, dark with many a stain, 

In summer crowned with drifting orchard bloom. 
Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain. 
And white in winter like a marble tomb. 

** And round about its gray, time-eaten brow 

Lean letters speak — a worn and shattered row : — 

' J am a Shade ; A Shadowe too arte thou ; 

I mark the Time ; saye. Gossip, dost thou soe ? ' " 

— Austin Dobson. 




CENTURY or more ago, in 
the heart of nearly all English 
gardens, and in the gardens of 
our American colonies as well, 
there might be seen a pedestal 
of varying material, shape, and 
pretension, surmounted by the 
most interesting furnishing in 
"dead-works" of the garden, a sun-dial. In pub- 
lic squares, on the walls of public buildings, on 
bridges, and by the side of the way, other and 
simpler dials were found. On the walls of country 
houses and churches vertical sun-dials were dis- 
played ; every English town held them by scores. 
In Scotland, and to some extent in England, these 
sun-dials still are found ; in fine old gardens the 
2 A 353 



354 



Old Time Gardens 



most richly carved dials are standing ; but in 
America they have become so rare that many peo- 
ple have never seen one. In many of the formal 
gardens planned by our skilled architects, sun-dials 




•he Sun-dial and Bee Skepe. 



are now springing afresh like mushroom growth of 
a single night, and some are objects of the greatest 
beauty and interest. 

If the claims of antiquity and historical associa- 
tion have aught to charm us, every sun-dial must 
be assured of our interest. The most primitive 



Sun-dials 



355 



mode of knowing of the midday hour was by a "noon 
mark," a groove cut or line drawn on door or win- 
dow sill which indicated the meridian hour through 
a shadow thrown on this noon mark. A good 
guess as to the hours near noon could be made by 
noting the distance of the shadow from the noon 
mark. I chanced to be near an old noon mark this 
summer as the sun warned that noon approached ; I 
noted that the marking shadow crossed the line at 
twenty minutes before noon by our watches — which, 
I suppose, was near enough to satisfy our " early 
to rise" ancestors. Meridian lines were often traced 
with exactness on the floors of churches in Conti- 
nental Europe. 

An advance step in accuracy and elegance was 
made when a simple metal sun-dial was afiixed to the 
window sill instead of cutting the rude noon mark. 
Soon the sun-dial was set on a simple pedestal near 
the kitchen window, so that the active worker within 
might glance at the dial face without ceasing in her 
task. Such a sun-dial is shown on page 354, as it 
stands under the " buttery " window cosily hobnob- 
bing with its old crony of many years, the bee skepe. 
One could wish to be a bee, and live in that snug 
home under the Syringa bush. 

Portable sun-dials succeeded fixed dials ; they have 
been known as long as the Christian era; shepherds' 
dials were the " Kalendars " or " Cylindres " about 
which treatises were written as early as the thir- 
teenth century. They were small cylinders of wood 
or ivory, having at the top a kind of stopper 
with a hinged gnomon; they are still used in the 



3^(> 



Old Time Gardens 



Pyrenees. Pretty little "ring-dials" of brass, gold, 
or silver, are constructed on the same principle. 
The exquisitely wrought portable dial shown on 
this page is a very fine piece of workmanship, and 
must have been costly. It is dated 1764, and is 
eleven inches in diameter. It is a perfect example 




Portable Sun-dial. 

of the advanced type of dial made in Italy, which 
had a simpler form as early certainly as a.d. 300. 
The compass was added in the thirteenth century. 
The compass-needle is missing on this dial, its only 
blemish. The Italians excelled in dial-making; 
among their interesting forms were the cross-shaped 
dials evidently a reliquary. 



Sun-dials 357 

Portable dials were used instead of watches. There 
is at the Washington headquarters at Morristown a 
delicately wrought oval silver case, with compass and 
sun-dial, which was carried by one of the French 
officers who came here with Lafayette ; George 
Washington owned and carried one. 

The colonists came here from a land set with dials, 
whether they sailed from Holland or England. 
Charles I had a vast fancy for dials, and had them 
placed everywhere ; the finest and most curious was 
the splendid master dial placed in his private gardens 
at Whitehall ; this had five dials set in the upper 
part, four in the four corners, and a great horizontal 
concave dial ; among these were scattered equinoctial 
dials, vertical dials, declining dials, polar dials, plane 
dials, cylindrical dials, triangular dials ; each was 
inscribed with explanatory verses in Latin. Equally 
beautiful and intricate were the dials of Charles II, 
the most marvellous being the vast pyramid dial 
bearing 271 different dial faces. 

Those who wish 'to learn of English sun-dials 
should read Mrs. Gatty's Book of Sun-dials^ a mas- 
sive and fascinating volume. No such extended 
record could be made of American sun-dials ; but 
it pleases me that I know of over two hundred sun- 
dials in America, chiefly old ones ; that I have pho- 
tographs of many of them ; that I have copies of 
many hundred dial mottoes, and also a very fair col- 
lection of the old dial faces, of various metals and 
sizes. 

I know of no public collection of sun-dials in 
America save that in the Smithsonian Institution, 



3S^ 



Old Time Gardens 



and that is not a large one. Several of our Histori- 
cal Societies own single sun-dials. In the Essex 
Institute is the sun-dial of Governor Endicott ; 
another, shown on page 344, was once the property 
of my far-away grandfather, Jonathan Fairbanks; 
it is in the Dedham Historical Society. 

All forms of sun-dials are interesting. A simple 
but accurate one was set on Robins Island by the 




Sun-dial in Garden of Frederick. J. Kingsbury, Esq. 

late Samuel Bowne Duryea, Esq., of Brooklyn. 
Taking the flagpole of the club house as a stylus, 
he laid the lines and figures of the dial-face with 
small dark stones on a ground of light-hued stones, 
all set firmly in the earth at the base of the pole. 
Thus was formed, with the simplest materials, by 
one who ever strove to give pleasure and stimulate 
knowledge in all around him, an object which not 



Sun-dials 



.359 




^'^^'f^'im «» 



U* •• 



only told the time o' the day, but afforded gratifica- 
tion, elicited investigation, and awakened sentiment 
in all who beheld it. 

A similar use of a vertical pole as a primitive 
gnomon for a sun-dial seems to 
have been common to many un- 
civilized peoples. In upper 
Egypt the natives set up a palm 
rod in open ground, and arrange 
a circle of stones or pegs around 
it, calling it an alka^ and thus 
mark, the hours. The plough- 
man leaves his buffalo standing 
in the furrow while he learns the 
progress of time from this sim- 
ple dial — and we recall the 
words of Job, " As a servant 
earnestly desireth a shadow." 

The Labrador Ind- 
ians, when on the hunt or 
the march, set an upright 
stick or spear in the snow, 
and draw the line of the 
shadow thus cast. They 
then stalk on their way ; 
and the women, heavily 
laden with provisions, 
shelter, and fuel, come slowly along two or three 
hours later, note the distance between the present 
shadow and the line drawn by their lords, and know 
at once whether they must gather up the stick or 
spear and hurry along, or can rest for a short time 




■''^. 



Sun-dial at Morristown, New Jersey. 



360 Old Time Gardens 

on their weary march. This is a primitive but exact 
chronometer. 

There are serious objections to quoting from 
Charles Lamb : you are never willing to end the 
transcription — you long to add just one phrase, one 
clause more. Then, too, the purity of the pearl 
which you choose seems to render duller than their 
wont the leaden sentences with which you enclose it 
as a setting. Still, who could write of sun-dials 
without choosing to transcribe these words of 
Lamb's ^ 

*'What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous em- 
bowelments of lead or brass, its pert or solemn duhiess of 
communication, compared with the simple altar-Hke struc- 
ture and silent heart-language of the old dial ! It stood as 
the garden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost 
everywhere banished ? If its business use be suspended 
by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, 
might have pleaded for its continuance. It spoke of mod- 
erate labors, of pleasures not protracted after sunset, of 
temperance and good hours. It was the primitive clock, 
the horologe of the first world. Adam could scarce have 
missed it in Paradise. The ' shepherd carved it out quaintly 
in the sun,' and turning philosapher by the very occupa- 
tion, provided it with mottoes more touching than tomb- 
stones." 

Sun-dial mottoes still can be gathered by hundreds ; 
and they are one record of a force in the develop- 
ment of our literate people. For it was long after 
we had printing ere we had any general class of folk, 
who, if they could read, read anything save the Bible. 
To many the knowledge of reading came from the 



Sun-dials 



361 



deciphering of what has been happily termed the 

Literature of the Bookless. This literature was 

placed that he who ran might read ; and its opening 

chapters were in the form of inscriptions and legends 

and mottoes 

which were 

placed, not only 

on buildings and 

walls, and pillars 

and bridges, but 

on household 

furniture and 

table utensils. 

The inscribing 
of mottoes on 
sun-dials appears 
to have sprung 
up with dial- 
making; and 
where could a 
strict moral les- 
son, a suggestive 
or inspiring 
thought, be bet- 
ter placed? Even 
the most heed- 




Yes, Toby! It's Three O'clock. 



less or indifferent passer-by, or the unwilling reader 
could not fail to see the instructive words when he 
cast his glance to learn the time. 

The mottoes were frequently in Latin, a few in 
Greek or Hebrew ; but the old English mottoes 
seem the most appealing. 



362 



Old Time Ciardens 



ABUSE ME NOT I DO NO ILL 

I STAND TO SERVE THEE WITH C.OOD WILL 

AS CAREFUL THEN BE SURE THOU BE 

TO SERVE THY GOD AS I SERVE THEE. 

A CLOCK. THE TIME MAY WRONGLY TELL 
I NEVER IK THE SUN SHINE WELL. 

AS A SHADOW SUCH IS LIFE. 

I COUNT NONE BUT SUNNY HOURS. 

BE THE DAY WEARY, BE THE DAY LONG 
SOON IT SHALL RING TO EVEN SONG. 



Scriptural verses have 
ever been favorites, es- 
pecially passages from 
the Psalms : " Man is 
like a thing ot nought, 
his time passeth away 
like a shadow." "My 
time is in Thy hand." 
" Put not off from day 
to day." "(^h, re- 
member how short my 
time is." Some of the 
Latin mottoes are very 
beautiful. 

Poets have written 
special verses for sun- 
dials. These noble lines are by Walter Savage 
Landor : — 




Face of Dial at Sag Harbor. Long 
Island. 



Sun-dials 363 

IN HIS OWN IMAGE THE CREATOR MADE, 
HIS OWN PURE SUNBEAM QUICKENED THEE, O MAN ! 
THOU BREATHING DIAL ! SINCE THE DAY BEGAN 
THE PRESENT HOUR WAS EVER MARKED WITH SHADE. 

The motto, Horas non numero nisi serenas, in vari- 
ous forms and languages, has ever been a favorite. 
From an old album 1 have received this poem writ- 
ten by Professor S. F. B. Morse; there is a note 
with it in Professor Morse's handwriting, saying he 
saw the motto on a sun-dial at Worms : — 

TO A. G. E. 

Horas non numero nisi serenas. 

The sun when it shines in a clear cloudless sky 
Marks the time on my disk in figures of light ; 

If clouds gather o'er me, unheeded they fly, 
I note not the hours except they be bright. 

So when I review all the scenes that have past 

Between me and thee, be they dark, be they light, 
I forget what was dark, the light I hold fast ; 
I note not the hours except they be bright. 
Samuel F. B. Morse, 

Washington, March, 1845. 

The sun-dial seems too classic an object, and too 
serious a teacher, to bear a jesting motto. This 
sober pun was often seen : — 

life's but a shadowe 

man's but DUST 
THIS DYALL SAYES 
DY ALL WE MUST. 



3^4 



Old Time Gardens 



The siin-dlal docs not lure to " idle dalliance." 
Nine-tenths of the sun-dial mottoes tersely warn you 

not to linger, to 
haste away, that 
time is fleeting, 
anti your hoiu's 
are numbered, 
and therefore to 
" he about yoiu* 
business." In a 
single moment 
and at a single 
glance the sun- 
tlial has said its 
lesson, has told 
its absolute mes- 
sage, and there 
is no reason for 
you to gaze at it 
longer. Its very 
position, too, in 
t h c u n s hade d 
rays of the sun, 
does not invite 
you to long com- 
panionship, as 
do the shady 
lengths of a per- 
gola, or a green 
orchard seat. 
Still, I would 
ever have a gar- 




Sun-dial in Garden of Grace Church 
Rectory, New York. 



Sun-dials 



3^5 



den seat near a sun-dial, especially when it is a work 
of art to be studied, and with mottoes to be remem- 
bered. For even in hurrying America the sun-dial 
seems — like a guide-post — a half-human thing, 
for which we 
can feel an al- 
most personal 
interest. 

The figure 
of a sun-dial 
played an in- 
teresting part 
in the early 
history of the 
United States. 
In the first set 
of notes issued 
for currency 
by the Amer- 
ican Congress 
was one for 
the value of 
one third of a 
dollar. One 
side has the 
chain of links 

bearing the names of the thirteen states, enclosing a 
sunburst bearing the words, American Congress, We 
are One. The reverse side is shown on this page. 
It bears a print of a sun-dial, with the motto, Fugio^ 
Mind Your Business. The so-called " Franklin cent" 
has a similar design of a sun-dial with the same motto, 




Fugio Bank-note. 



366 Old Time Gardens 

and there was a beautiful " Fugio dollar" cast 
in silver, bronze, and pewter. I'hough this de- 
sign and motto were evidently Franklin's taste, 
the motto in its use on a sun-dial was not original 
with Franklin, nor with any one else in the Congress, 
for it had been seen on dials on many English 
churches and houses. In the form, " Begone about 
Your Business," it was on a house in the Inner 
Temple ; this is the tradition of the origin of this 
motto. The dialler sent for a motto to place under 
the dial, as he had been instructed by the Bench- 
ers ; when the man arrived at the Library, he found 
but one surly old gentleman poring over a musty 
book. To him he said, " Please, sir, the gentlemen 
told me to call this hour for a motto for the sun- 
dial." " Begone about your business," was the testy 
answer. So the man painted the words under the 
dial ; and the chance words seemed so appropriate to 
the Benchers that they were never removed. It is 
told of Dean Cotton of Bangor that he had a 
cross old gardener who always warded off un- 
welcome visitors to the deanery by saying to every 
one who approached, " Go about your business ! " 
After the gardener's death the dean had this motto 
engraved around the sun-dial in the garden, " Goa 
bou tyo urb us in ess, 1838." Thus the gardener's 
growl became his epitaph. Another form was, 
" Be about Your Business," and it is a suggestive 
fact that it was on a dial on the General Post-office 
in London in 1756. Franklin's interest in and knowl- 
edge of postal matters, his long residence in London, 
and service under the crown as American post- 



Sun-dials 



367 



master general, must have familiarized him with this 
dial, and I am convinced it furnished to him the 
notion for the design on the first bank-note and 
coins of the new 
nation. 

An interesting 
bit of history 
allied to America 
is given to us in 
the finding of a 
sun-dial which 
gives to Ameri- 
can students of 
heraldic antiqui- 
ties another 
dated shield of 
the Washing- 
ton " stars and 
stripes." 

In Little Bring- 
ton, Northamp- 
tonshire, stands a 
house known as 
"The Washington 
House," which 
gave shelter to the Washingtons of Sulgrave after 
the fall of their fortunes. Within a stone's throw 
of the house has recently been found a sun-dial hav- 
ing the Washington arms (argent) two bars, and in 
chief three mullets (gules) carved upon it, with the 
date 1 6 17. The existence of this stone has been 
known for forty years ; but it has never been closely 




Sun-dial at "Washington House," Little 
Brington, England. 



368 



Old Time Gardens 



examined and noted till recently. It is a circular 
slab of sandstone three inches thick and sixteen 
inches in diameter. The gnomon is lacking. The 
lines, figures, and shield are incised, and the letters 
R. W. can be dimly seen. These were probably 




Dial-face from Mount Vernon. 



the initials of Robert Washington, great uncle of the 
two emigrants to Virginia. 

Through the kind^iess of Mr. A. L. Y. Morley, 
a faithful antiquary of Great Harrington, I have the 
pleasure of giving, on page 367, a representation 
of this interesting dial. It is shown leaning against 



Sun-dials 



369 



the " pump-stand " in the yard of the " Washington 
House " ; and the pump seems as ancient as the dial. 
In this book are three other sun-dials associated 
with George Washington. At Mount Vernon there 
stands at the 
front of the en- 
trance door a 
modern sun- 
dial. The fine 
old metal dial- 
face, about ten 
inches in diame- 
ter, which in 
Washington's 
day was placed 
on the same 
site, is now the 
property of 
Mr. William F. 
Havemeyer, Jr., 
of New York. 
It was given to 
him by Mr. 
Custis; a picture 
of it is shown on 

page 368. ^1 his Sun-dial of Mary Washington, Fredericksburg, 
dial-face is a Virginia. 

splendid relic ; 

one closely associated with Washington's everyday 
life, and full of suggestion and sentiment to every 
thoughtful beholder. The sun-dial which stood in 
the old Fredericksburg garden of Mary Washington, 




2JO Old Time Gardens 

the mother of George Washington, still stands in 
Fredericksburg, in the grounds of Mr. Doswell. A 
photograph of it is reproduced on page 369. The 
fourth historic dial is on page 371. It is the one 
at Kenmore, the home built by Fielding Lewis for 
his bride, Betty Washington, the sister of George 
Washington, on ground adjoining her mother's 
home. A part of the garden which connected these 
two Washington homes is shown on page 228. 
These three American sun-dials afford an interest- 
ing proof of the universal presence of sun-dials in 
Virginian homes of wealth, and they also show the 
kind of dial-face which was generally used. Another 
ancient dial (page 350) at Travellers' Rest, a near-by 
Virginian country seat, is similar in shape to these 
three, and differs but little in mounting. 

In Pennsylvania and Virginia sun-dials have lin- 
gered in use in front of court-houses, on churches, 
and in a few old garden dials. In New England 
I scarcely know an old garden dial still standing 
in its original place on its original pedestal. Four 
old ones of brass or pewter are shown in the 
illustration on page 379. These once stood in 
New England gardens or on the window sills of old 
houses; one was taken from a sunny window ledge 
to give to me. 

Perhaps the attention paid the doings of the 
American Philosophical Society, and the number of 
scientists living near Philadelphia, may account for 
the many sun-dials set up in the vicinity of the 
town. Godfrey, the maker of Godfrey's Quadrant, 
was one of those scientific investigators, and must 
have been a famous " dialler." 



Sun-dials 



371 



On page 373 is shown an ancient sun-dial in the 
garden of Charles F. Jenkins, Esq., in German- 
town, Pennsylvania. This sun-dial originally be- 
longed to Nathan Spencer, who lived in Germantown 




Kenmore, the Home of Betty Washington Lewis. 

prior to and during the Revolutionary War. Hep- 
zibah Spencer, his daughter, married, and took the 
sun-dial to Byberry. Her daughter carried the sun- 
dial to Gwynedd when her name was changed to 
Jenkins ; and their grandson, the present owner, 
rescued it from the chicken house with the gnomon 



372 Old Time Gardens 

missing, which was afterward found. Its inscription, 
" Time waits for No Man," is an old punning de- 
vice on the word gnomon. 

At one time dialling was taught by many a 
country schoolmaster, and excellent and accurate 
sun-dials were made and set up by country 
workmen, usually masons of slight education. 
In Scotland the making of sun-dials has never died 
out. In America many pewter sun-dials were cast 
in moulds of steatite or other material. A few dial- 
makers still remain ; one in lower New York makes 
very interesting-looking sun-dials of brass, which, 
properly discolored and stained, find a ready sale 
in uptown shops. I doubt if these are ever made 
for any special geographical point, but there is in 
a small Pennsylvania town an old Quaker who 
makes carefully calculated and accurate sun-dials, 
computed by logarithms for special places. I should 
like to see him " sit like a shepherd carving out 
dials, quaintly point by point." I have a very pretty 
circular brass dial of his making, about eight inches 
in diameter. He writes me that " the dial sent thee 
is a good students' dial, fit to set outside the window 
for a young man to use and study by in college," 
which would indicate to me that my Quaker dialler 
knows another type of collegian from those of mv 
acquaintance, who would find the time set by a sun- 
dial rather slow. 

There have been those who truly loved sun- 
dials. Sir William Temple ordered that after his 
death his heart should be buried under the sun- 
dial in his garden — where his heart had been in 



Sun-dials 



373 



life. 'Tis not unusual to see a sun-dial over the 
gate to a burial ground, and a noble emblem it 
is in that place ; one at Mount Auburn Cemetery, 







Sun-dial in Garden of Charles F. Jenkins, Esq., Germantown, 
Pennsylvania. 

near Boston, bears a pleasing motto written origi- 
nally by John G. Whittier for his friend, Dr. 
Henry IngersoU Bowditch, and inscribed on a 
beautiful silver sun-dial now owned by Dr. Vin- 



374 Old Time Gardens 

cent Y. Bowditch of Boston, Massachusetts. A 
facsimile of this dial was also placed before 
the Manor House on the island of Naushon by 
Mr. John M. 1^'orbcs in memory of Dr. Bowditch. 
The lines run thus : — 

WITH WARNING HAND I MARK TIMe's RAPID FLIGHT 
FROM life's glad MORNING TO ITS SOLEMN NIGHT. 
YET, THROUGH THE DEAR GOD's LOVE I ALSO SHOW 
there's LIGHT ABOVE ME, BY THE SHADE BELOW. 

A sun-dial is to me, in many places, a far more in- 
spiring memorial than a monument or tablet. Let 
me give as an example the fine sun-dial, designed by 
W. Gedney Beatty, Esq., and shown on page 359, 
which was erected on the grounds of the Memorial 
Hospital at Morristown, New jersey, by the Society 
of the Daughters of the American Revolution, to 
mark the spot where Washington partook of the 
Communion. 

What dignified and appropriate church appoint- 
ments sun-dials are. A simple and impressive bronze 
vertical dial on the wall of the Dutch Reformed 
Church on West End Avenue, New York, is shown 
on page 346. The sun-dial standing before the rec- 
tory of Grace Church on Broadway, New York, is 
on page 364. 

There is ever much question as to a suitable 
pedestal for garden sun-dials : it must not stand so 
high that the dial-face cannot be looked down upon 
by grown persons ; it must not be so light as to 
seem rickety, nor so heavy as to be clumsy. A 



Sun-dials 



375 



very good rule is to err on the side of simplicity 
in sun-dials for ordinary gardens. What I regard 




Sun-dial at Ophir Farm, White Plains, New York, Country-seat 
of Hon. Whitelaw Reid. 



as a very satisfactory pedestal and mounting in 
every particular may be seen in the illustration 
facing page 80, showing the sun-dial in the gar- 
den of Charles E. Mather, Esq., at Avonwood 



376 Old Time Gardens 

Court, Haverford, Pennsylvania. Sometimes the 
pillars of old balustrades, old fence posts, and 
even parts of old tombs and monuments, have 
been used as pedestals for sun-dials. How pleas- 
antly Sylvana in her Letters to an Unknown Friend^ 
tells us and shows to us her cheerful sun-dial 
mounted on the four corners of an old tomb- 
stone with this fine motto cut into the upper step, 
Lux et umbra vicissim sed semper amor. I mean 
to search the stone-cutters' waste heap this summer 
and see whether I cannot rob the grave to mark the 
hours of my life. Charles Dickens had at Gadshill 
a sun-dial set on one of the pillars of the balustrade 
of Old Rochester Bridge. From Italy and Greece 
marble pillars have been sent from ancient ruins to 
be set up as dial pedestals. 

If possible, the pedestal as well as the dial-face of 
a handsome sun-dial should have some significance 
through association, suggestion, or history. At 
Ophir Farm, White Plains, New York, the country- 
seat of Hon. Whitelaw Reid, may be seen a sun-dial 
full of exquisite significance. It is shown on page 
375. The signs of the Zodiac in finely designed 
bronze are set on the symmetrical marble pedestal, 
and seem wonderfully harmonious and appropriate. 
This sun-dial is a literal exemplification of the words 
of Emerson : — 

"A calendar 
Exact to days, exact to hours. 
Counted on the spacious dial 
Yon broidered Zodiac girds." 



Sun-dials 377 

The dial-face is upheld by a carefully modelled tor- 
toise in bronze, which is an equally suggestive em- 
blem, connected with the tradition, folk-lore, and 
religious beliefs of both primitive and cultured peo- 
ples ; it is specially full of meaning in this place. 
The whole sun-dial shows much thought and aes- 
thetic perception in the designer and owner, and 
cannot fail to prove gratifying to all observers 
having either sensibility or judgment. 

Occasionally a very unusual and beautiful sun-dial 
standard may be seen, like the one in the Rose gar- 
den at Yaddo, Saratoga, New York, a copy of rarely 
beautiful Pompeian carvings. A representation of 
this is shown on page 86. Copies of simpler antique 
carvings make excellent sun-dial pedestals ; a safe 
rule to follow is to have a reproduction made of some 
well-proportioned English or Scotch pedestal. The 
latter are well suited to small gardens. I have draw- 
ings of several Scotch sun-dials and pedestals which 
would be charming in American gardens. In the 
gardens at Hillside, by the side of the Shakespeare 
Border is a sun-dial (page 378) which is an exact 
reproduction of the one in the garden at Abbots- 
ford, the home of Sir Walter Scott. This pedestal 
is suited to its surroundings, is well proportioned ; 
and has historic interest. It forms an excellent 
example of Charles Lamb's "garden-altar." 

On a lawn or in any suitable spot the dial-face can 
be mounted on a boulder; one is here shown. I 
prefer a pedestal. For gardens of limited size, much 
simplicity of design is more pleasing and more fitting 
than any elaborate carving. In an Italian garden, or 



378 



Old Time Gardens 



in any formal garden whose work in stone or marble 
is costly and artistic, the sun-dial pedestal should be 




Sun-dial at Hillside, Menand's, near Albany, New York. 

the climax in richness of carving of all the garden 
furnishing. I like the pedestal set on a little plat- 
form, so two or three steps may be taken up to it 
from the garden level ; but after all, no rules can be 



Sun-dials 



379 



given for the dial's setting. It may be planted with 
vines, or stand unornamented ; it may be set low, 
and be looked down upon, or it may be raised high 
up on a side wall; but wherever it is, it must not 
be for a single minute in shadow ; no trees or 
overhanging shrubs should be near it; it is a child 
of the sun, and lives only in the sun's full rays. 

In the lovely old garden 

at the home of Frederick 

J. Kingsbury, Esq., at 

Waterbury, 

Conn., is a 




Old Brasa and Fewier Dial-faces. 



sun-dial bearing the motto, " Horas non numero nisi 
Serenas" and the dates 1739-175I5 — the dates of the 
building of the old and new houses on land that has 
been in the immediate family since 1739. Around 
this dial is a crescent-shaped bed of Zinnias, and 
very satisfactory do they prove. This garden has 
fine Box edgings ; one is shown on page 173, a 
Box walk, set in 1851 with ancient Box brought 
from the garden of Mr. Kingsbury's great-great- 
grandfather. 

The gnomon of a sun-dial is usually a simple 



380 Old Time Gardens 

plate of metal in the general shape of a right-angled 
triangle, cut often in some pierced design, and 
occasionally inscribed with a motto, name, or date. 
Sometimes the dial-maker placed on the gnomon 
various Masonic symbols — the compass, square, 
and triangle, or the coat of arms of the dial 
owner. 

One old English dial fitting we have never copied 
in America. It was the taste of the days of the 
Stuart kings, days of constant jesting and amuse- 
ment and practical jokes. Concealed water jets were 
placed which wet the clothing of the unwary one 
who lingered to consult the dial-face. 

The significance of the sun-dial, as well as its classi- 
cism, was sure to be felt by artists. In the paintings 
of Holbein, of Albert Diirer, dials may be seen, not 
idly painted, but with symbolic meaning. The mys- 
tic import of a sun-dial is shown in full effect in 
that perfect picture, Beata Beatrix^ by Dante Gabriel 
Rossetti. I have chosen to show here (facing page 
380) the Beata Beatrix owned by Charles L. Hutch- 
inson, Esq., of Chicago, as being less photographed 
and known than the one of the British Gallery, from 
which it varies slightly and also because it has the 
beautiful predella. In this picture, in the words of 
its poet-painter : — 

*♦ Love's Hour stands. 

Its eyes invisible 
Watch till the dial's thin brown shade 
Be born — yea, till the journeying line be laid 
Upon the point." 




^_J 



Beata Beatrix. 



Sun-dials 



381 



Andrew Marvell wrote two centuries ago of the 
floral sun-dials which were the height of the garden- 
ing mode of his day : — 

" How well the skilful gardener drew 

Of flowers and herbs this dial new. 

When from above the milder sun 

Does through a fragrant zodiac run ; 

And as it works the industrious bee 

Computes its time as well as we ! 
How could such sweet and wholesome hours 
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers!" 

These were sometimes set of diverse flowers, 
sometimes of Mallows. Two of growing Box are 




The Faithful Gardener. 



described and displayed in the chapter on Box 
edgings. 



382 



Old Time Gardens 



Linnseus made a list of forty-six flowers which 
constituted what he termed the Horologe or Watch 
of Flora, and he gave what he called their exact hours 
of rising and setting. He divided them into three 
classes : Meteoric, Tropical, and Equinoctial flowers. 
Among those which he named are: — 





Opening Hour. 


Closing Hour. 


Dandelion . 


5-6 A.M. 


8-9 P.M. 


Mouse-ear Hawk weed . 


8 A.M. 


2 P.M. 


Sow Thistle 


5 A.M. 


I I-I2 P.M. 


Yellow Goat-beard 


3-5 A.M. 


9-10 (?) 


White Water Lily 


7 A.M. 


7 P.M. 


Day Lily 
Convolvulus 


5 A.M. 
5-6 A.M. 


7-8 P.M. 


Mallow 


9-10 A.M. 




Pimpernel . 
Portulaca 


7-8 A.M. 
9-10 A.M. 




Pink {Diaiithus prolifer) 


8 A.M. 


I P.M. 


Succory 
Calendula . 


4—5 A.M. 
7 A.M. 


3-4 P.M. 



Of course these hours would vary in this countrv. 
And I must say very franklv that I think we should 
always be behind time if we trusted to Flora's 
Horologe. This floral clock of Linnseus was calcu- 
lated for Upsala, Sweden; De Candolle gave another 
for Paris, and one has been arranged for our Eastern 
states. 




CHAPTER XVIII 

GARDEN FURNISHINGS 

"Furnished with whatever may make the place agreeable, mel- 
ancholy, and country-like." 

— Forest Trees, JoHS Evelyn, 1670. 

'UAINT old books of garden de- 
signers show us that much more 
was contained in a garden two 
centuries ago, than now ; it had 
many more adjuncts, more furnish- 
ings ; a very full list of them has 
been given by Batty Langley in 
his New Principles of Gardening, 
etc., 1728. Some seem amusing — as haystacks and 
woodpiles, which he terms " rural enrichments." Of 
water adornments there were to be purling streams, 
basins, canals, fountains, cascades, cold baths. There 
were to be aviaries, hare warrens, pheasant grounds, 
partridge grounds, dove-cotes, beehiveSj deer pad- 
docks, sheep walks, cow pastures, and "manazeries" 
(menageries ?) ; physic gardens, orchards, bowling- 
greens, hop gardens, orangeries, melon grounds, 
vineyards, parterres, fruit yards, nurseries, sun-dials, 
obelisks, statues, cabinets, etc., decorated the garden 
walks. There were to be land gradings of mounts, 
winding valleys, dales, terraces, slopes, borders, open 

383 



384 Old Time Gardens 

plains, labyrinths, wildernesses, " serpentine mean- 
ders," " rude-coppices," precipices, amphitheatres. 
His " serpentine meanders " had large opening 
spaces at proper distances, in one of which might 
be placed a small fruit garden, a " cone of ever- 
greens," or a " Paradice-Stocks," — about which lat- 
ter mysterious garden adornment I think we must 
be content to remain in ignorance, since he certainly 
has given us ample variety to choose from without it. 

Other " landscapists " placed in their gardens old 
ruins, misshapen rocks, and even dead trees, in order 
to look " natural." 

In 1608 Henry Ballard brought out The Gar- 
deners Labyrinth — a pretty good book, shut away 
from the most of us by being printed in black letter. 
He says : — 

"The framing of sundry herbs delectable, with waies 
and allies artfully devised is an upright herbar." 

Herbars, or arbors, were of two kinds: an upright 
arbor, which was merely a covered lean-to attached 
to a fence or wall ; and a winding or " arch-arbor " 
standing alone. He names "archherbs," which are 
simply climbing vines to set "winding in arch-man- 
ner on withie poles." " Walker and sitters there- 
under " are thereby comfortably protectee! from 
the heat ot the sun. These upright arbors were 
in high favor; Ballard says they offered "fragrant 
savours, delectable sights, and sharpening of the 
memory." 

Tree arbors were in use in Elizabethan times, 




A Garden Lyre at Waterford, Virginia. 



Garden Furnishings ,385 

platforms built in the branches of large trees. Park- 
inson called one that would hold fifty men, "the 
goodliest spectacle that ever his eyes beheld." A 
distinction was made between arbors and bowers. 
The arbor might be round or square, and was domed 
over the top ; while the long arched way was a 
bower. In our Southern states that special use of 
the word bower is still universal, especially in the 
term Rose bowers. A quaint and universal furnish- 
ing of old Southern gardens were the trellises known 
as garden lyres. Two are shown in this chapter, 
from Waterford, Virginia ; one bearing little foliage 
and another embowered in vines, in order to show 
what a really good vine support they were. Garden 
lyres and Rose bowers are rotting on the ground 
in old Virginia gardens, and 1 fear they will never 
be replaced. 

The word pergola was seldom heard here a cen- 
tury ago, save as used by the few who had travelled 
in Italy; but pergolas were to be found in many 
an old American garden. An ancient oval pergola 
still stands at Arlington, that beautiful spot which 
was once the home of the Virginia Lees, and is now 
the home of the honored dead of our Civil War. 
This old pergola has remained unharmed through 
fierce conflict, and is wreathed each spring with the 
verdure of vines of many kinds. It is twenty feet 
wide between the pillars, and forms an oval one 
hundred feet long and seventy wide, and when in 
full greenery is a lovely thing. It was called — 
indeed it is still termed in the South — a "green 
gallery," a word and thing of mediaeval days. 



:^86 



Old Time Gardens 



There are many pretty trellises and vine supports 
and arbors which can be made of light poles and 




A Virginia Lyre with Vines. 



rails, but 1 do not like to hear the pretentious name, 
pergola, applied to them. A pergola must not be a 



Garden Furnishings 387 

mean, light-built affair. It should be of good pro- 
portions and substantial materials. It need not be 
made with brick or marble pillars ; natural tree 
trunks of good size serve as well. It should look 
as if it had been built with care and stability, and 
that the vines had been planted and trained by 
skilled gardeners. A pergola may have a dilapi- 
dated Present and be endurable ; but it should 
show evidences of a substantial Past. 

Little sisters of the pergola are the charmilles^ or 
bosquets, arches of growing trees, whose interlaced 
boughs have no supports of wood as have the per- 
golas. When these arches are carefully trained and 
pruned, and the ground underneath is laid with turf 
or gr ivel, they form a delightful shady walk. 

Charming covered ways can be easily made by 
polling and training Plum or Willow trees. Arches 
are far too rare in American gardens. The few we 
have are generally old ones. In Mrs. Pierson's 
garden in Salem the splendid arch of Buckthorn is a 
hundred and twenty five years old. Similar ones are 
at Indian Hill. Cedar was an old choice for hedges 
and arches. It easily winter-kills at the base, and 
that is ample reason for its rejection and disuse. 

The many garden seats of the old English garden 
were perhaps its chief feature in distinction from 
American garden furnishings to-day. In a letter 
written from Kenilworth in 1575 the writer told of 
garden seats where he sat in the heat of summer, 
" feeling the pleasant whisking wynde." I have 
walked through many a large modern garden in the 
summer heat, and longed in vain for a shaded seat 



388 ^ Old Time Gardens 

from which to regard for a few moments the garden 
treasures and feel the whisking wind, and would 
gladly have made use of the temporary presence 
of a wheelbarrow. 




Old Iron Gate at Westover-on-James. 

Seats of marble and stone are in many of our 
modern formal gardens ; a pretty one is in the garden 
at Avonwood Court. 

Grottoes, arbors, and summer-houses were all of 
importance in those days, when in our latitude and 



Garden Furnishings 389 

climate men had not thought to build piazzas sur- 
rounding the house and shadowing all the ground 
floor rooms. We are beginning to think anew of 
the value of sunlight in the parlors and dining rooms 
of our summer homes, which for the past thirty or 
forty years have been so darkened by our wide 
piazzas. Now we have fewer piazzas and more 
peristyles, and soon we shall have summer-houses 
and garden houses also. 

There are preserved in the South, in spite of war 
and earthquake, a number of fine examples of old 
wrought-iron garden gates. King William of Eng- 
land introduced these artistic gates into England, 
and they were the height of garden fashion. Among 
them were the beautiful gates still at Hampton 
Court, and those of Bulwich, Northamptonshire. 
They were called clair-voyees on account of the unin- 
terrupted view they permitted to those without and 
within the walls. These were often painted blue ; 
but in America they were more sober of tint, though 
portions were gilded. One of the old gates at West- 
over-on-James is here shown, and on page 390 the 
rich wrought-iron work in the courtyard at the home 
of Colonel Colt in Bristol, Rhode Island. This is 
as fine as the house, and that is a splendid example 
of the best work of the first years of the nineteenth 
century. 

Fountains were seen usually in handsome gardens 
in the South ; simple water jets falling in a handsome 
basin of marble or stone. Statuary of marble or lead 
was never common in old American gardens, though 
pretentious gardens had examples. To-day, in our 



;>9o 



Old Time Gardens 



carchillv thmight-out o:ifdcns, the garden statuary 
is a rhino; of bcaiitv and ot'tcn of meaning, as the 
tiL!;urc shown on pa^c S4. Dsually our statues are 

ofniarble, some- 
times a Japanese 
bronze is seen. 
In the old 
black letter 
CuirJoicrs l.iih- 
\rintl.\ a very 
t'uil description 
IS gi\'en ot old 
nu)des ot water- 
ing a garden. 
There was a 
primitive and 
very limited sys- 
tem ot irriga- 
tion, the water 
being raised by 
" welTswipes " ; 
tliere were very 
handv punch- 
eons, or tubs on 
wheels, which 
could be trun- 
dled down the 
garden walk. 
There was also a formidable "Great Squirt of Tin," 
which was said to take " mighty strength " to handle, 
and which looked like a small cannon ; vyith it was 
an intienious bent tube ot tin by which the water 




Iron-work in Court of Colt Mansion, Bristol. 
Rhode Island. 



Garden Furnishings 391 

could be thrown in "great droppes" like a fountain. 
The author says of ordinary means of garden water- 
ing:— 

"The common Watring Pot with us hath a narrow 
Neck, a Big liclly, Somewhat large Bottome, and full of 
little holes with a proper hole forced in the head to take in 
the water; which filled full and the Thumbe laid on the 
hole to keep in the aire may in such wise be carried in 
handsome Manner." 

Garden tools have changed but little since Tudor 
days ; spade and rake were like ours to-day, so 
were dibble and mattock. Even grafting and prun- 
ing tools, shown in books of husbandry, were sur- 
prisingly like our own. Scythes were much heavier 
and clumsier. An old fellow is here shown sharpen- 
ing in the ancient manner a scythe about three 
hundred years old. 

The art of grafting, known since early days, 
formed an important part of the gardener's craft. 
Large share of ancient garden treatises is devoted to 
minute instructions therein. To this day in New 
England towns a good grafter is a local autocrat. 

Beehives were once found in every garden ; bee- 
skepes they were called when made of straw. Pic- 
turesque and homely were the old straw beehives, and 
still are they used in England; the old one shown 
in the chapter on sun-dials can scarcely be mated in 
America. They served as a conventional emblem 
of industry. They were made of welts or ropes of 
twisted straw, as were the heavy winnowing skepes 
once used for winnowing grain. In Maine, in a few 



39^ 



Old Time Gardens 



out-of-the-way communities, ancient men still winnow 
grain with these skepes. I saw a man last autumn, 




Summer-house at Ravensworth. 



a giant in stature, standing in a dull light on the 
crown of a hill winnowing wheat in one of these 




Sharpening the Old Dutch Scythe. 



Garden Furnishings * 393 

great skepes with an indescribably free and noble 
gesture. He was a classic, a relic of Homer's age, 
no longer a farmer, but a husbandman. Bees and 
honey were of much value in ancient days. Honey 
was the chief ingredient in many wholesome and 
pleasing drinks — mead, metheglin, bragget (or bra- 
ket), morat, erboule — all very delightful in their 
ingredients, redolent of meadows and hedge-rows ; 
thus Cowslip mead was made of Cowslip " pips," 
honey. Lemon juice, and " a handful of Sweet- 
brier." " Athol porridge," demure of name, was as 
potent as pleasing — potent as good honey, good 
cream, and good whiskey could make it. 

Rows of typical Southern beehives are shown in 
the two succeeding illustrations. From their home 
by the side of a White Rose and under an old 
Sweet Apple tree these Waterford bees did not wish 
to swarm out in a hurry to find a new home. These 
beehives are not very ancient in shape, but when 
I see a row of them set thus under the trees, 
or in a hive-shelter, they seem to tell of olden 
days. The very bees flying in an out seem steady- 
going, respectable old fellows. Such hives have a 
cosy look, with rows of Hollyhocks behind them, 
and hundreds of spires of Larkspur for these old 
bees to bury their heads in. 

The sadly picturesque old superstition of " telling 
the bees " of a death in a family and hanging a bit 
of black cloth on the hives as a mourning-weed still 
is observed in some country communities. Whit- 
tier's poem on the subject is wonderfully "countri- 
fied " in atmosphere, using the word chore-girl, so 



394 ' ^^^ Time Gardens 

seldom heard even in familiar speech to-day and 
never found in verse elsewhere than in this rustic 
poem. 1 saw one summer in Narragansett, on 
Stony Lane, not far from the old Six-Principle 
Church, a row of beehives hung with strips of 
black cloth; the house mistress was dead — the 
friend of bird and beast and bee — who had reared 
the guardian of the garden told of on page 396 
ei seq. 

A pretty and appropriate garden furnishing was 
the dove-cote. The possession of a dove-cote in 
England, and the rearing of pigeons, was free only to 
lords of the manor and noblemen. When the colo- 
nists came to America, many of them had never been 
permitted to keep pigeons. In Scotland persistent 
attemps at pigeon-raising by folks of humble station 
might be punished with death. The settlers must 
have revelled in the freedom of the new land, as well 
as in the plenty of pigeons, both wild and domestic. 
In old England the dove-cote was often built close 
to the kitchen door, that squab and pigeon might 
be near the hand of the cook. Dove-cotes in Amer- 
ica were often simple boxes or houses raised on stout 
posts. Occasionally might be seen a fine brick dove- 
cote like the one still standing at Shirley-on-the- 
James, in Virginia, which is shaped without and 
within like several famous old dove-cotes in England, 
among them the one at Athelhampton Hall, Dorches- 
ter, England. The English dove-cote has within 
a revolving ladder hung from a central post while 
the Virginian squab catcher uses an ordinary ladder. 
The shelves for the birds to rest upon and the square 



Garden Furnishings 



395 



recesses for the nests made by the ingenious plac- 
ing of the bricks are aHke in both cotes, 

A beautiful and fitting tenant of old formal gar- 
dens was the peacock, " with his aungelis federys 
bryghte." On large English estates peacocks were 
universally kept. A fine peacock, with full-spread 




Beehives under the Trees. 



tail, makes many a gay flower bed pale before 
his panoply of iridescence and color. The pea- 
hen is a demurely pretty creature. Peacocks are 
not altogether grateful to garden owners ; on the 
old Narragansett farm whose garden is shown 
on page ;]^y they were always kept, and it was 
one of the prides and pleasures of formal hospi- 



396 Old Time Gardens 

tality to ofFer a roasted peacock to visitors. But, 
save when roasted, the vain creatures would not 
keep silence, and when they squawked the glory 
of their plumage was forgotten. They had an 
odious habit, too, of wandering off to distant groves 
on the farm, usually selecting the nights of bitterest 
cold, and roosting in some very high tree, in some 
very inaccessible spot. They could not be left in 
this ill-considered sleeping-place, else they would 
all freeze to death ; and words fail to tell the labor 
in lowering twilight and temperature of discovering 
their retreat, the dislodging, capturing, and imprison- 
ing them. 

In Narragansett there is a charming old farm 
garden, which I often visit to note and admire its 
old-time blossoms. This garden has a guardian, who 
haunts the garden walks as did the terrace peacock 
of old Kngland ; no watch-dog ever was so faithful, 
and none half so acute. When I visit the garden I 
always ask " Where is Job ? " I am answered that 
he is in the field with the cattle. Sometimes this is 
true, but at other times Job has left the field and is 
attending to his assumed duties. As he is not en- 
couraged, he has learned great slyness and dissimu- 
lation. Immovable, and in silence, Job is concealed 
behind a Syringa hedge or in a Lilac ambush, and as 
you stroll peacefully and unwittingly down the paths, 
sniffing the honeyed sweetness of the dense edging 
of Sweet Alyssum, all is as balmy as the blossoms. 
But stoop for an instant, to gather some leaves of 
Sweet Basil or Sweet Brier, or to collect a dozen 
seed-pods of that specially delicate Sweet Pea, and 



Garden Furnishings 



397 



lo ! the enemy is upon you, Hke a fierce whirlwind. 
He looks miid and demure enough in his kitchen 
yard retreat, whereto, upon piercing outcry for help, 
the farmer and his two sons have haled him, and 




Dove-cote at Shirley-on-James. 



where the camera has caught him. But far from 
meek is his aspect when you are dodging him 
around the great Tree Peony, or flying frantically 
before him down the side path to the garden gate. 
This fierce wild beast was once that mildest of crea- 



398 



Old Time Gardens 



tures — a pet lamb; the constant companion of the 
farm-wife, as she weeded and watered her loved gar- 
den. Her husband savs, " He seems to think folks 
are stealing her flowers, if they stop to look." The 
wife and mother of these three great men has gone 
from her garden forever ; but a tenderness for all 




The Peacock in His Pride. 



that she loved makes them not only care for her 
flowers, but keeps this rampant guardian of the gar- 
den at the kitchen door, just as she kept him when 
he was a little lamb. I knew this New England 
farmer's wife, a noble woman, of infinite tenderness, 
strength, and endurance; a lover of trees and flowers 
and all living things, and I marvel not that they 
keep her memory green. 



CHAPTER XIX 



GARDEN BOUNDARIES 



' A garden fair . . . with Wandis long and small 
Railed about, and so with trees set 
Was all the place ; and Hawthorne hedges knet. 
That lyf was none walking there fbrbye 
That might within scarce any wight espy." 

— Kings ^bair. King James I of Scotland. 

NE who reads what I have written 
in these pages of a garden enclosed, 
will scarcely doubt that to me 
every garden must have bounda- 
ries, definite and high. Three 
old farm boundaries were of neces- 
sity garden boundaries in early 
days — our stone walls, rail fences, 
and hedge-rows. The first two seem typically Ameri- 
can ; the third is an English hedge fashion. Through- 
out New England the great boulders were blasted to 
clear the rocky fields ; and these, with the smaller 
loose stones, were gathered into vast stone walls. 
We still see these walls around fields and as the 
boundaries of kitchen gardens and farm flower gar- 
dens, and delightful walls they are, resourceful of 
beauty to the inventive gardener. I know one lovely 
garden in old Narragansett, on a farm which is now 
the country-seat of folk of great wealth, where the 

399 




400 



Old Time Gardens 



old stone walls are the pride of the place ; and the 
careful ly kept garden seems set in a beautitui frame 
of soft gray stones and flowering vines. These walls 
would be more beautiful still if our climate would 
let us have the wall gardens of old England, but 




The Guardian of the Garden. 



everything here becomes too dry in summer for wall 
gardens to flourish. 

Rhode Island farmers for two centuries have 
cleared and sheltered the scanty soil ot their state by 
blasting the ledges, and gathering the great stones 



Garden Boundaries 401 

of ledge and field into splendid stone walls. Their 
beauty is a gift to the farmer's descendants in reward 
for his hours of bitter and wearying toil. One of 
these fine stone walls, six feet in height, has stood 
secure and unbroken through a century of upheavals 
of winter frosts — which it was too broad and firmly 
built to heed. It stretches from the Post Road in 
old Narragansett, through field and meadow, and by 
the side of the oak grove, to the very edge of the 
bay. To the waterside one afternoon in June there 
strolled, a few years ago, a beautiful young girl and 
a somewhat conscious but determined young man. 
They seated themselves on the stone wall under the 
flickering shadow of a great Locust tree, then in full 
bloom. The air was sweet with the honeyed fragrance 
of the lovely pendent clusters of bloom, and bird and 
bee and butterfly hovered around, — it was paradise. 
The beauty and fitness of the scene so stimulated the 
young man's fancy to thoughts and words of love that 
he soon burst forth to his companion in an impas- 
sioned avowal of his desire to make her his wife. 
He had often pictured to himself that some time he 
would say to her these words, and he had seen also 
in his hopes the looks offender affection with which 
she would reply. What was his amazement to be- 
hold that, instead of blushes and tender glances, his 
words of love were met by an apparently frenzied 
stare of horror and disgust, that seemed to pierce 
through him, as his beloved one sprung at one 
bound from her seat by his side on the high stone 
wall, and ran away at full speed, screaming out, " Oh, 
kill him ! kill him ! " 



402 Old Time Gardens 

Now that was certainly more than disconcerting to 
the warmest of lovers, and with a half-formed dread 
that the suddenness of his proposal of love had 
turned her brain, he ran after her, albeit somewhat 
coolly, and soon learned the reason for her extraordi- 
nary behavior. Emulous of the tempting serpent of 
old, a great black snake, Mr. Bascanion constrictor^ 
had said complaisantly to himself: " Now here are 
a fair young Adam and Eve who have entered un- 
invited my Garden of Eden, and the man fancies it 
is not good for him to be alone, but I will have a 
word to say about that. I will come to her with 
honied words." So he thrust himself up between 
the stones of the wall, and advanced persuasively 
upon them, behind the man's back. But a Yankee 
Eve of the year i 890 a.d. is not that simple creature, 

the Eve of the year b.c; and even the Father 

of Evil would have to be great of guile to succeed 
in his wiles with her. 

A farm servant was promptly despatched to watch 
for the ill-mannered and intrusive snake who — as 
is the fashion of a snake — had grown to be as big 
as a boa-constrictor after he vanished ; and at the 
end of the week once more the heel of man had 
bruised the serpent's head, and the third party in 
this love episode lay dead in his six feet of ugliness, 
a silent witness to the truth of the story. 

Throughout Narragansett, Locust trees have a 
fashion of fringing the stone walls with close young 
growth, and shading them with occasional taller trees. 

These form an ideal garden boundary. The stone 
walls also gather a beautiful growth of Clematis, Brier, 




Terrace Wall at Van Cortlandt Manor. 



Garden Boundaries 



403 



wild Peas, and Grapes; but they form a clinging-place 
for that devil's brood, Poison Ivy, which is so per- 
sistent in growth and so difficult to exterminate. 

The old worm fence was distinctly American ; it 
had a zigzag series of chestnut rails, with stakes 
of twisted cedar saplings which were sometimes 
" chunked" by 
moss - covered 
boulders just 
peeping from 
the earth. This 
worm fence 
secured to the 
nature lover 
and to wild life 
a strip of land 
eight or ten feet 
wide, whereon 
plant, bird, 
beast, reptile, 
andinsectflour- 
ished and re- 
produced. It 
has been, within 
a few years, a 

gardening fashion to preserve these old " Virginia " 
fences on country places of considerable elegance. 
Planted with Clematis, Honeysuckle, Trumpet vine. 
Wistaria, and the free-growing new Japanese Roses, 
they are wonderfully effective. 

On Long Island, east of Riverhead, where there 
are few stones to form stone walls, are curious and 




Rail Fence Corner. 



404 



Old Time Gardens 



picturesque hedge-rows, which are a most inter- 
esting and characteristic feature of the landscape, 
and they are beautiful also, as I have seen them once 
or twice, at the end of an old garden. These hedge- 
rows were thus formed : when a field was cleared, 
a row of young saplings of varied growth, chiefly 




Topiary Work at Levens Hall. 



Oak, Elder, and Ash, was left to form the hedge 
These young trees were cut and bent over parallel to 
the ground, and sometimes interlaced together with 
dry branches and vines. Each year these trees were 
lopped, and new sprouts and branches permitted to 
grow only in the line of the hedge. Soon a tangle 
of briers and wild vines overgrew and netted them 



Garden Boundaries 405 

all into a close, impenetrable, luxuriant mass. They 
were, to use Wordsworth's phrase, " scarcely hedge- 
rows, but lines of sportive woods run wild." In this 
close green wall birds build their nests, and in their 
shelter burrow wild hares, and there open Violets 
and other firstlings of the spring. The twisted tree 
trunks in these old hedges are sometimes three or four 
feet in diameter one way, and but a foot or more the 
other; they were a shiftless field-border, as they took 
up so much land, but they were sheep-proof. The 
custom of making a dividing line by a row of bent 
and polled trees still remains, even where the close, 
tangled hedge-row has disappeared with the flocks 
of sheep. 

These hedge-rows were an English fashion seen in 
Hertfordshire and Suffolk. On commons and re- 
claimed land they took the place of the quickset 
hedges seen around richer farm lands. The bend- 
ing and interlacing was called plashing ; the polling, 
shrouding. English farmers and gardeners paid in- 
finite attention to their hedges, both as a protection 
to their fields and as a means of firewood. 

There is something very pleasant in the thought 
that these English gentlemen who settled eastern 
Long Island, the Gardiners, Sylvesters, Coxes, and 
others, retained on their farm lands in the new world 
the customs of their English homes, pleasanter still 
to know that their descendants for centuries kept up 
these homely farm fashions. The old hedge-rows 
on Long Island are an historical record, a landmark 
— long may they linger. On some of the finest 
estates on the island they have been carefully pre- 



4o6 Old Time Gardens 

served, to form the lower boundary of a garden, 
where, laid out with a shaded, grassy walk dividing 
it from the flower beds, they form the loveliest of 
garden limits. Planted skilfully with great Art to 
look like great Nature, with edging of Elder and 
Wild Rose, with native vines and an occasional con- 
genial garden ally, they are truly unique. 

Yew was used for the most famous English hedges; 
and as neither Yew nor Holly thrive here — though 
both will grow — I fancy that is why we have ever 
had in comparison so few hedges, and have really no 
very ancient ones, though in old letters and account 
books we read of the planting of hedges on fine 
estates. George Washington tried it, so did Adams, 
and Jefferson, and Ouincy. Osage Orange, Bar- 
berry, and Privet were in nurserymen's lists, but it 
has not been till within twenty or thirty years that 
Privet has become so popular. In Southern gardens. 
Cypress made close, good garden hedges ; and Cedar 
hedges fifty or sixty years old are seen. Lilac hedges 
were unsatisfactory, save in isolated cases, as the one 
at Indian Hill. The Japan Quinces, and other of 
the Japanese shrubs, were tried in hedges in the 
mid-century, with doubtful success as hedges, though 
they form lovely rows of flowering shrubs. Snow- 
balls and Snowberries, Flowering Currant, Altheas, 
and Locust, all have been used for hedge-planting, 
so we certainly have tried faithfully enough to have 
hedges in America. Locust hedges are most grace- 
ful, they cannot be clipped closely. I saw one lovely 
creation of Locust, set with an occasional Rose Aca- 
cia — and the Locust thus supported the brittle Aca- 




Oval Pergola at Arlington. 



Garden Boundaries 



407 



cia. If it were successful, it would be, when in bloom, 
a dream of beauty. Hemlock hedges are ever fine, 
as are hemlock trees everywhere, but will not bear 
too close clipping. Other evergreens, among them 
the varied Spruces, have been set in hedges, but 




French Homestead with old Stone Terrace, Kingston, Rhode Island. 

have not proved satisfactory enough to be much 
used. 

Buckthorn was a century ago much used for hedges 
and arches. When Josiah Quincy, President of 
Harvard College, was in Congress in 1809, he ob- 
tained from an English gardener, in Georgetown, 
Buckthorn plants for hedges in his Massachusetts 
home, which hedges were an object of great beauty 
for many years. 



Garden Boundaries 407 

cia. If it were successful, it would be, when in bloom, 
a dream of beauty. Hemlock hedges are ever fine, 
as are hemlock trees everywhere, but will not bear 
too close clipping. Other evergreens, among them 
the varied Spruces, have been set in hedges, but 





. --i,lj;*. -f ^^.^«as^ -^ .,. . ;•■, 





French Homestead with old Stone Terrace, Kingston, Rhode Island. 

have not proved satisfactory enough to be much 
used. 

Buckthorn was a century ago much used for hedges 
and arches. When Josiah Quincy, President of 
Harvard College, was in Congress in 1809, he ob- 
tained from an English gardener, in Georgetown, 
Buckthorn plants for hedges in his Massachusetts 
home, which hedges were an object of great beauty 
for many years. 



4o8 Old Time Gardens 

The traveller Kalm found Privet hedges in Penn- 
sylvania in 1760. In Scotland Privet is called 
Primprint. Primet and Primprivet were other old 
names. Box was called Primpe. *These were all 
derivative of prim, meaning precise. Our Privet 
hedges, new as they are, are of great beauty and 
satisfaction, and soon will rival the Knglish Yew 
hedges. 

1 have never yet seen the garden in which there 
was not some boundary or line which could be filled 
to advantage by a hedge. In garden great or garden 
small, the hedge should ever have a place. Often 
a featureless garden, blooming well, yet somehow 
unattractive, has been completely transformed by 
the planting of hedges. They seem, too, to give 
such an orderly aspect to the garden. In level 
countries hedges are specially valuable. I cannot 
understand why some denounce clipped hedges and 
trees as against nature. A clipped hedge is just as 
natural as the cut grass of a lawn, and is closely akin 
to it. Others think hedges "too set" ; to me their 
finality is their charm. 

Hedges need to be well kept to be pleasing. 
Chaucer in his day in praising a " begge " said 
that : — 

'• Every branchc and leaf must grow hv nicsure 
Plcinc as a bord, ot" an height by and by." 

In England, hedge-clipping has ever been a garden- 
ing art. 

In the old English garden the topiarist was an 
important functionary. Besides his clipping shears 



Garden Boundaries 409 

he had to have what old-time cooks called judgment 
or faculty. In English gardens many specimens of 
topiary work still exist, maintained usually as relics 
of the past rather than as a modern notion of the 
beautiful. The old gardens at Levens Hall, page 
404, contain some of the most remarkable examples. 
In a few old gardens in America, especially in 
Southern towns, traces of the topiary work of early 
years can be seen; these overgrown, uncertain shapes 
have a curious influence, and the sentiment awak- 
ened is beautifully described by Gabriele d' Annun- 
zio : — 

" We walked among evergreens, among ancient Box 
trees, Laurels, Myrtles, whose wild old age had forgotten its 
early discipline. In a few places here and there was some 
trace of the symmetrical shapes carved once upon a time 
by the gardener's shears, and with a melancholy not unlike 
his who searches on old tombstones for the effigies of the 
forgotten dead, I noted carefully among the silent plants 
those traces of humanity not altogether obliterated." 

The height of topiary art in America is reached in 
the lovely garden, often called the Italian garden, of 
Hollis H. Hunnewell, Esq., at Wellesley, Massa- 
chusetts. Vernon Lee tells in her charming essay 
on " Italian Gardens " of the beauty of gardens with- 
out flowers, and this garden of Mr. Hunnewell is an 
admirable example. Though the efi^ect of the black 
and white of the pictured representations shown on 
these pages is perhaps somewhat sombre, there is 
nothing sad or sombre in the garden itself The 
clear gleam of marble pavilions and balustrades, the 



4IO 



Old Time Gardens 



formal rows of flower jars with their hundreds of 
Century plants, and the lovely light on the lovely 
lake, serve as a delightful contrast to the clear, clean 
lusty green of the clipped trees. This garden is a 

b e a u t i f u 1 ex- 
ample of the 
art of the topi- 
a r i s t, not in 
its grotesque 
forms, but in 
the shapes liked 
by Lord Bacon, 
pyramids, col- 
u m n s , and 
"hedges in 
welts," carefully 
studied to be 
both stately and 
graceful. I first 
saw this garden 
thirty years ago; 
it was interest- 
ing then in its 
well thought- 
out plan, and in 
the perfection 
of every inch of 
its slow growth ; 
but how much more beautiful now, when the gar- 
den's promise is fulfilled. 

The editor of Country Life says that the most 
notable attempt at modern topiary work in Eng- 




Steps in Italian Garden at Wellesley, 
Massachusetts. 



Garden Boundaries 411 

land is at Ascott, the scat of Mr. Leopold de 
Rothschild, but the examples there have not 
attained a growth at all approaching those at 
Wellesley. Mr. Hunnewell writes thus of his 
garden : — 

" It was after a visit to Elvaston nearly fifty years ago 
that I conceived the idea of making a collection of trees 
for topiary work in imitation of what I had witnessed at 
that celebrated estate. As suitable trees for that purpose 
could not be obtained at the nurseries in this country, and 
as the English Yew is not reliable in our New England 
climate, I was obliged to make the best selection possible 
from such trees as had proved hardy here — the Pines, 
Spruces, Hemlocks, Junipers, Arbor-vitae, Cedars, and 
Japanese Retinosporas. I'he trees were all very small, 
and for the first twenty years their growth was shortened 
twice annually, causing them to take a close and compact 
habit, comparing favorably in that respect with the Yew. 
Many of them are now more than forty feet in height and 
sixty feet in circumference, the Hemlocks especially proving 
highly successful." 

This beautiful example of art in nature is ever 
open to visitors, and the number of such visitors is 
very large. It is, however, but one of the many 
beauties of the great estate, with its fine garden of 
Roses, its pavilion of splendid Rhododendrons and 
Azaleas, its uncommon and very successful rock 
garden, and its magnificent plantation of rare trees. 
There are also many rows of fine hedges and arches 
in various portions of the grounds, hedges of clipped 
Cedar and Hemlock, many of them twenty feet 
high, which compare well in condition, symmetry, 



412 



old Time Ciardciis 



and extent with the finest KngHsh hedges on the 
finest Knglish estates. 

Through the great number of formal gardens 
laid out within a tew years in America, the topiary 
art has had a certain revival. In Calitornia, with 




Topiary Work in California. 

the lavish t'oIiao;e, it mav be seen in considerable 
perfection, though of scant beautv, as here shown. 

llappv is the garden surrounded by a brick wall 
or with terrace wall of brick. How well every color 
looks by the side of oki brick ; even scarlet, bright 
pink, and rose-pink flowers, which seem impossible, 
cio verv well when held to the wall by clear green 
leaves. Flowering vines are perfect when trained 



(jardcn Boundaries 



4^3 



on old soft-red brick enclosing walls ; white-flowered 
vines are specially lovely thereon, Clematis, white 
Roses, and the rarely beautiful white Wistaria. How 
lovely is my Virgin's-bower when growing on brick; 




Serpentine Brick Wall at University of Virgn i ■ ./ill':. 

how Hollyhocks stand up beside it. Brick posts, 
too, are good in a fence, and, better still, in a pergola. 
A portion of the fine terrace wall at Van Cortlandt 
Manor is shown facing page 286. I'his wall was 
put in about fifty years ago ; ere that there had been 



414 Ol^^ Time Gardens 

a grass bank, which is ever a trial in a garden ; for it 
is hard to niow the grass on such a bank, and it never 
looks neat; it should be planted with some vine. 

A very curious garden wall is the serpentine brick 
wall still standing at the University of Virginia, at 
Charlottesville. It is about seven feet high, and 
closes in the garden and green of the row of houses 
occupied by members of the faculty ; originally 
it may have extended around the entire college 
grounds. I present a view trom the street in order 
to show its contour distinctly ; within the garden its 
outlines are obscured by vines and flowers. The 
first thought in the mind of the observer is that its 
reason for curving is that it could be built much 
more lightlv, and hence more cheaply, than a 
straight wall ; then it seems a possible idealization 
in brick of the old Virginia rail fence. But I do 
not look to domestic patterns and influences for its 
production ; it is to me a good example of the old- 
time domination of French ideas which was so 
marked and so disquieting in America. In France, 
after the peace of 1762, the Marquis de Geradin 
was revolutionizing gardening. His own garden at 
F',rmenonville and his description of it exercised im- 
portant influence in F",ngland and America, as in 
France. Jefferson was the planner and architect of 
the LJniversity of Virginia ; and it is stated that he 
built this serpentine wall. Whether he did or not, 
it is another example of French influences in archi- 
tecture in the United States. This French school, 
above everything else, replaced straight lines with 
carefully curving and winding lines. 



CHAPTER XX 



A MOONLIGHT GARDEN 



" How sweetly smells the Honeysuckle 
In the hush'd night, as if the world were one 
Of utter peace and love and gentleness." 

— Walter Savage Landor 




rVRDENS fanciful of name, a 
Saint's Garden, a Friendship 
Garden, have been planted and 
cherished. I plant a garden 
like none other; not an every- 
day garden, nor indeed a garden 
of any day, but a garden for 
" brave moonshine," a garden 
of twilight opening and midnight bloom, a garden 
of nocturnal blossoms, a garden of white blossoms, 
and the sweetest garden in the world. It is a garden 
of my dreams, but I know where it lies, and it now 
is smiling back at this very harvest moon. 

The old house of Hon. Ben. Perley Poore — 
Indian Hill — at Newburyport, Massachusetts, has 
been for many years one of the loveliest of New 
England's homes. During his lifetime it had ex- 
traordinary charms, for on the noble hillside, where 
grew scattered in sunny fields and pastures every 
variety of native tree that would winter New Eng- 
land's snow and ice, there were vast herds of snow- 

415 



41 6 Old Time Gardens 

white cows, and flocks of white sheep, and the 
splendid oxen were white. White pigeons circled 
in the air around ample dove-cotes, and the farm- 
yard poultry were all white ; an enthusiastic chronicler 
recounts also white peacocks on the wall, but these 
are also denied. 

On every side were old terraced walls covered with 
Roses and flowering vines, banked with shrubs, and 
standing in beds of old-time flowers running over 
with bloom ; but behind the house, stretching up 
the lovely hillside, was The Garden, and when we 
entered it, lo ! it was a White Garden with edg- 
ings of pure and seemly white Candytuft from the 
forcing beds, and flowers of Spring Snowflake and 
Star of Bethlehem and Jonquils ; and there were 
white-flowered shrubs of spring, the earliest Spirseas 
and Deutzias ; the doubled-flowered Cherries and 
Almonds and old favorites, such as Peter's Wreath, 
all white and wonderfully expressive of a simplicity, a 
purity, a closeness to nature. 

I saw this lovely farmstead and radiant White 
Garden first in glowing sunlight, but far rarer must 
have been its charm in moonlight ; though the white 
beasts (as English hinds call cattle) were sleeping in 
careful shelter ; and the white dog, assured of their 
safety, was silent ; and the white fowl were in coop 
and cote ; and 

" Only the white sheep were sometimes seen 
To cross the strips of moon-blanch' d green." 

But the White Garden, ah ! then the garden truly 
lived ; it was like lightest snow wreaths bathed in 



A Moonlight Garden 41 y 

silvery moonshine, with every radiant flower adoring 
the moon with wide-open eyes, and pouring forth 
incense at her altar. And it was peopled with shadowy 
forms shaped of pearly mists and dews ; and white 
night moths bore messages for them from flower to 
flower — this garden then was the garden of my 
dreams. 

Thoreau complained to himself that he had not 
put duskiness enough into his words in his descrip- 
tion of his evening walks. He longed to have the 
peculiar and classic severity of his sentences, the 
color of his style, tell his readers that his scene was 
laid at night without saying so in exact words. I, 
too, have not written as I wished, by moonlight; I 
can tell of moonlight in the garden, but I desire 
more; I want you to see and feel this moonlight 
garden, as did Emily Dickinson her garden by 
moonlight: — 

** And still within the summer's night 
A something so transporting bright 
I clap my hands to see." 

But perhaps I can no more gather it into words than 
I can bottle up the moonlight itself 

This lovely garden, varied in shape, and extending 
in many and diverse directions and corners, bears as 
its crown a magnificent double flower border over 
seven hundred feet long; with a broad straight path 
trimly edged with Box adown through its centre, and 
with a flower border twelve feet wide on either side. 
This was laid out and planted in 1833 by the parents 
of Major Poore, after extended travel in England, 



41 8 Old Time Gardens 

and doubtless under the influences of the beautiful 
English flower gardens they had seen. Its length 
was originally broken halfway up the hill and 
crowned at the top of the hill by some formal par- 
terres of careful design, but these now are removed. 
There are graceful arches across the path, one of 
Honeysuckle on the crown of the hill, from which 
you look out perhaps into Paradise — for Indian 
Hill in June is a very close neighbor to Paradise ; 
it is difficult to define the boundaries between the 
two, and to me it would be hard to choose between 
them. 

Standing in this arch on this fair hill, you can look 
down the long flower borders of color and per- 
fume to the old house, lying in the heart of the trees 
and vines and flowers. To your left is the hill-sweep, 
bearing the splendid grove, an arboretum of great 
native trees, planted by Major Poore, and for which 
he received the prize awarded by his native state 
to the finest plantation of trees within its bounds. 
Turn from the house and garden, and look through 
this frame of vines formed by the arch upon this 
scene, — the loveliest to me of any on earth, — a 
fair New England summer landscape. Fields of 
rich corn and grain, broken at times with the gray 
granite boulders which show what centuries of grand 
and sturdy toil were given to make these fer- 
tile fields; ample orchards full of promise of fruit; 
placid lakes and mill-dams and narrow silvery rivers, 
with low-lying red brick mills embowered in trees ; 
dark forests of sombre Pine and Cedar and Oak; 
narrow lanes and broad highways shaded with the 




o 



A Moonlight Garden 419 

livelier green of Elm and Maple and Birch ; gray 
farm-houses with vast barns ; little towns of thrifty 
white houses clustered around slender church-spires 
which, set thickly over this sunny land, point every- 
where to heaven, and tell, as if speaking, the story 
of New England's past, of her foundation on love of 
God, just as the fields and orchards and highways 
speak of thrift and honesty and hard labor ; and 
the houses, such as this of Indian Hill, of kindly 
neighborliness and substantial comfort ; and as this 
old garden speaks of a love of the beautiful, a refine- 
ment, an aesthetic and tender side of New England 
character which we know, but into which — as Mr. 
Underwood says in ^labbin^ that fine study of 
New England life — "strangers and Kiplings cannot 
enter." 

Seven hundred feet of double flower border, four- 
teen hundred feet of flower bed, twelve feet wide! 
" It do swallow no end of plants," says the gar- 
dener." 

In spite of the banishing dictum of many artists 
in regard to white flowers in a garden, the presence 
of ample variety of white flowers is to me the 
greatest factor in producing harmony and beauty 
both by night and day. White seems to be as 
important a foil in some cases as green. It may 
sometimes be given to the garden in other ways 
than through flower blossoms, by white marble 
statues, vases, pedestals, seats. 

We all like the approval of our own thoughts by 
men of genius; with my love of white flowers I had 
infinite gratification in these words of Walter Savage 



420 Old Time Gardens 

Landor's, written from Florence in regard to a 
friend's garden : — 

" I like white flowers better than any others ; they re- 
semble fair women. Lily, Tuberose, Orange, and the 
truly English Syringa are my heart's delight. I do not 
mean to say that they supplant the Rose and Violet in my 
affections, for these are our first loves, before we grew too 
fond of considering ; and too fond of displaying our acquaint- 
ance with others of sounding titles." 

In Japan, where flowers have rank, white flowers 
are the aristocrats. I deem them the aristocrats in 
the gardens of the Occident also. 

Having been informed of Tennvson's dislike of 
white flow'^rs, I have amused myself by trying to dis- 
cover in his poems evidence of such aversion. I 
think one possibly might note an indifference to 
white blossoms; but strong color sense, his love of 
ample and rich color, would naturally make him 
name white infrequently. A pretty line in Walking 
to the Mail tells of a girl with " a skin as clean and 
white as Privet when it flowers " ; and there were 
White Lilies and Roses and milk-white Acacias in 
Maud's garden. 

In The Last Tournament the street-ways are de- 
picted as hung with white samite, and " children sat 
in white," and the dames and damsels were all 
"white-robed in honor of the stainless child." A 
" swarthy one " cried out at last : — 

'* The snowdrop only, flowering thro' the year. 
Would make the world as blank as wintertide. 



A Moonlight Garden 421 

Come ! — let us gladden their sad eves 

With all the kindlier colors of the field. 

So dame and damsel glitter' d at the feast 

Variously gay. . . . 

So dame and damsel cast the simple white. 

And glowing in all colors, the live grass, 

Rose-campion, King-cup, Bluebell, Poppy, glanced 

About the revels." 




Foxgloves in Lower Garden at Indian Hill. 



In the garden borders is a commonplace little 
plant, gray of foliage, with small, drooping, closed 
flowet^ of an indifferently dull tint, you would almost 
wonder at its presence among its gay garden fellows. 
Let us glance at it in the twilight, for it seems like 
the twilight, a soft, shaded gray ; but the flowers have 
already lifted their heads and opened their petals, 
and they now seem like the twilight clouds of palest 



422 Old Time Gardens 

pink and lilac. It is the Night-scented Stock, and 
lavishly through the still night it pours forth its 
ineffable fragrance. A single plant, thirty feet from 
an open window, will waft its perfume into the 
room. This white Stock was a favorite flower of 
Marie Antoinette, under its French name the Juli- 
enne. " Night Violets," is its appropriate German 
name. Hesperis ! the name shows its habit. Dame's 
Rocket is our title for this cheerful old favorite of 
May, which shines in such snowy beauty at night, 
and throws forth such a compelling fragrance. It is 
rarely found in our gardens, but I have seen it grow- 
ing wild by the roadside in secluded spots ; not in 
ample sheets of growth like Bouncing Bet, which 
we at first glance thought it was ; it is a shyer stray, 
blossoming earlier than comely Betsey. 

The old-fashioned single, or slightly double, coun- 
try Pink, known as Snow Pink or Star Pink, was 
often used as an edging for small borders, and its blu- 
ish green, almost gray, foliage was quaint in effect and 
beautiful in the moonlight. When seen at night, 
the reason for the folk-name is evident. Last sum- 
mer, on a heavily clouded night in June, in a cottage 
garden at West Hampton, borders of this Snow Pink 
shone out of the darkness with a phosphorescent 
light, like hoar-frost, on every grassy leaf; while the 
hundreds of pale pink blossoms seemed softly shin- 
ing stars. It was a curious effect, almost wintry, 
even in midsummer. The scent was wafted down 
the garden path, and along the country road, like a 
concentrated essence, rather than a fleeting breath 
of flowers. One of these cottage borders is shown on 



A Moonlight Garden 423 

page 292, and I have named it from these Hnes 
from The Garden that 1 Love : — 

"A running ribbon of perliimed snow 
Which the sun is melting rapidly." 

At sundown the beautiful white Day Lily opens 
and gives forth all night an overwhelming sweetness ; 
I have never seen night moths visiting it, though I 
know they must, since a few seed capsules always 
form. In the border stand — 

"Clumps of sunny Phlox 
That shine at dusk, and grow more deeply sweet." 

These, with white Petunias, are almost unbearably 
cloying in their heavy odor. It is a curious fact that 
some of these night-scented flowers are positively 
offensive in the daytime ; try your Nicotiana affinis 
next midday — it outpours honeyed sweetness at 
night, but you will be glad it withholds its perfume 
by day. The plants of Nicotiana were first intro- 
duced to England for their beauty, sweet scent, and 
medicinal qualities, not to furnish smoke. Parkin- 
son in 1629 writes of Tobacco, " With us it is cher- 
ished for medicinal qualities as for the beauty of its 
flowers," and Gerarde, in 1633, after telling of the 
beauty, etc., says that the dried leaves are " taken in 
a pipe, set on fire, the smoke suckt into the stomach, 
and thrust forth at the noshtrils." 

Snake-root, sometimes called Black Cohosh {Cimi- 
cifuga racemosa)^ is one of the most stately wild 
flowers, and a noble addition to the garden. A 
picture of a single plant gives little impression of its 



424 Old Time Gardens 

dignity of habit, its wonderfully decorative growth ; 
but the succession of pure white spires, standing up 
several feet high at the edge of a swampy field, or 
in a garden, partake of that compelling charm which 
comes from tall trees of slender growth, from repe- 
tition and association, such as pine trees, rows of 




Dame's Rocket. 



bayonets, the gathered masts of a harbor, from 
stalks of corn in a field, from rows of Foxglove — 
from all " serried ranks." I must not conceal the 
fact of its horrible odor, which might exile it from a 
small garden. 

Among my beloved white flowers, a favorite 
among those who are all favorites, is the white Col- 
umbine. Some are double, but the common single 



A Moonlight Garden 425 

white Columbines picture far better the derivation 
of their name; they are like white doves, they seem 
almost an emblematic flower. William Morris 
says : — 

" Be very shy of double flowers ; choose the old Colum- 
bine where the clustering doves are unmistakable and dis- 
tinct, not the double one, where they run into mere tatters. 
Don't be swindled out of that wonder of beauty, a single 
Snowdrop ; there is no gain and plenty of loss in the 
double one." 

There are some extremists, such as Dr. Forbes 
Watson, who condemn all double flowers. One 
thing in the favor of double blooms is that their 
perfume is increased with their petals. Double Vio- 
lets, Roses, and Pinks seem as natural now as single 
flowers of their kinds. I confess a distinct aversion 
to the thought of a double Lilac. I have never seen 
one, though the Ranoncule, said to be very fine, costs 
but forty cents a plant, and hence must be much 
grown. 

There is a curious influence of flower-color which 
I can only explain by giving an example. We think 
of Iris, Gladiolus, Lupine, and even Foxglove and 
Poppy as flowers of a warm and vivid color ; so where 
we see them a pure white, they have a distinct and 
compelling efi^ect on us, pleasing, but a little eerie ; 
not a surprise, for we have always known the white 
varieties, yet not exactly what we are wonted to. 
This has nothing of the grotesque, as is produced 
by the albino element in the animal world ; it is 
simply a trifle mysterious. White Pansies and 



426 



Old Time Gardens 



White Violets possess this quality to a marked de- 
gree. I always look and look again at growing 
White Violets. A friend says : " Do you think 




Snake-root. 



A Moonlight Garden 427 

they will speak to you ? " for I turn to them with 
such an expectancy of something. 

The "everlasting" white Pea is a most satisfac- 
tory plant by day or night. Hedges covered with 
it are a pure delight. Do not fear to plant it 
with liberal hand. Be very liberal, too, in your 
garden of white Foxgloves. Even if the garden 
be small, there is room for many graceful spires 
of the lovely bells to shine out everywhere, pierc- 
ing up through green foliage and colored blooms 
of other plants. They are not only beautiful, but 
they are flowers of sentiment and association, en- 
deared to childhood, visited of bees, among the 
best beloved of old-time favorites. They consort 
well with nearly every other flower, and certainly with 
every other color, and they seem to clarify many a 
crudely or dingily tinted flower ; they are as admir- 
able foils as they are principals in the garden scheme. 
In England, where they readily grow wild, they are 
often planted at the edge of a wood, or to form vis- 
tas in a copse. I doubt whether they would thrive 
here thus planted, but they are admirable when set 
in occasional groups to show in pure whiteness 
against a hedge. I say in occasional groups, for the 
Foxglove should never be planted in exact rows. 
The White Iris, the Iris of the Florentine Orris- 
root, is one of the noblest plants of the whole world ; 
its pure petals are truly hyaline like snow-ice, like 
translucent white glass; and the indescribably beauti- 
ful drooping lines of the flowers are such a contrast 
with the defiant erectness of the fresh green leaves. 
Small wonder that it was a sacred flower of the 



428 Old Time Gardens 

Greeks. It was called by the French la flambe 
blanche, a beautiful poetic title — the White Torch 
of the Garden. 

A flower of mystery, of wonderment to children, 
was the Evening Primrose; I knew the garden 
variety onlv with intimacy. Possibly the wild 
flower had similar charms and was equally weird in 
the gloaming, but it grew by country roadsides, 
and I was never outside our garden limits after 
nightfill, so I know not its evening habits. We 
had in our garden a variety known as the California 
Evening Primrose — a giant flower as tall as our 
heads. My mother saw its pale yellow stars shining 
in the early evening in a cottage garden on Cape 
Ann, and was there given, out of the darkness, by 
a fellow flower lover, the seeds which have afi^orded to 
us every year since so much sentiment and pleas- 
ure. The most exquisite description of the Even- 
ing Primrose is given by Margaret Deland in her 
Old Garden : — 

** There the primrose stands, that as the night 
Begins to gather, and the dews to fall. 
Flings wide to circling moths her twisted buds. 
That shine like yellow moons with pale cold glow. 
And all the air her heavy fragrance floods. 
And gives largess to any winds that blow. 
Here in warm darkness of a night in June, 
. . . children came 

To watch the primrose blow. Silcndy they stood 
Hand clasped in hand, in breathless hush around, 
And saw her slyly doff her soft green hood 
And blossom — with a silken burst of sound." 



_..r, "" 










11^ 



cii^ 




The Tille-page of Parkinson's Paradisi in Sotis, etc. 



A Moonlight Garden 429 

The wild Primrose opens slowly, hesitatingly, 
it trembles open, but the garden Primrose flares 
open. 

The Evening Primrose is usually classed with 
sweet-scented flowers, but that exact observer, 
E. V, B., tells of its " repulsive smell. At night 
if the stem be shaken, or if the flower-cup trembles 
at the touch of a moth as it alights, out pours the 
dreadful odor." I do not know that any other 
garden flower opens with a distinct sound. Owen 
Meredith's poem. The Aloe^ tells that the Aloe 
opened with such a loud explosive report that the 
rooks shrieked and folks ran out of the house to 
learn whence came the sound. 

The tall columns of the Yucca or Adam's Needle 
stood like shafts of marble against the hedge trees 
of the Indian Hill garden. Their beautiful blooms 
are a miniature of those of the great Century Plant. 
In the daytime the Yucca's blossoms hang in 
scentless, greenish white bells, but at night these 
bells lift up their heads and expand with great stars 
of light and odor — a glorious plant. Around their 
spire of luminous bells circle pale night moths, lured 
by the rich fragrance. Even by moonlight we can 
see the little white detached fibres at the edge of the 
leaves, which we are told the Mexican women used 
as thread to sew with. And we children used to 
pull off" the strong fibres and put them in a needle 
and sew with them too. 

When I see those Yuccas in bloom I fully believe 
that they are the grandest flowers of our gardens ; 
but happily, I have a short garden memory, so I 



430 



Old Time Gardens 



mourn not the Yucca when I see the Anemone 
japonica or any other noble white garden child. 







« 'JI'^- "" 




L^^^ i* 'n'^'iJl ^ 









Yucca, like White Marble against the Evergreens. 



Here at the end of the garden walk is an arbor 
dark with the shadow of great leaves, such as Ge- 
rarde calls "leaves round and big like to a buckler." 



A Moonlight Garden 431 

But out of that shadowed background of leaf on 
leaf shine hundreds of pure, pale stars of sweetness 
and light, — a true flower of the night in fragrance, 
beauty, and name, — the Moon-vine. It is a flower 
of sentiment, full of suggestion. 

Did you ever see a ghost in a garden ? I do so 
wish I could. If I had the placing of ghosts, I 
would not make them mope round in stuffy old 
bedrooms and garrets ; but would place one here in 
this arbor in my Moonlight Garden. But if I did, I 
have no doubt she would take up a hoe or a watering- 
pot, and proceed to do some very unghostlike deed 
— perhaps, grub up weeds. Longfellow had a 
ghost in his garden (page 142). He must have 
mourned when he found it was only a clothes-line 
and a long night-gown. 

It was the favorite tale of a Swedish old lady who 
lived to be ninety-six years old, of a discovery of 
her youth, in the year 1762, of strange flashes of 
light which sparkled out of the flowers of the Nas- 
turtium one sultry night. I suppose the average 
young woman of the average education of the day 
and her country might not have heeded or told of 
this, but she was the daughter of Linnaeus, the great 
botanist, and had not the everyday education. 

Then great Goethe saw and wrote of similar flashes 
of light around Oriental Poppies ; and soon other 
folk saw them also — naturalists and everyday folk. 
Usually yellow flowers were found to display this 
light — Marigolds, orange Lilies, and Sunflowers. 
Then the daughter of Linnaeus reported another 
curious discovery ; she certainly turned her noctur- 



432 Old Time Gardens 

nal rambles in her garden to good account. She 
averred she had set fire to a certain gas which formed 
and hung around the Fraxinella, and that the igni- 
tion did not injure the plant. This assertion was 
met with open scoffing and disbelief, which has never 
wholly ceased ; yet the popular name ot Gas Plant 
indicates a widespread confidence in this quality of 
the Fraxinella and it is easily proved true. 

Another New England name for the Fraxinella, 
given me from the owner of the herb-garden at 
Elmhurst, is " Spitfire Plant," because the seed-pods 
sizzle so when a lighted match is applied to them. 

The Fraxinella is a sturdy, hardy flower. There 
are some aged plants in old New England gardens ; 
I know one which has outlived the man who planted 
it, his son, grandson, and great-grandson. The 
Fraxinella bears a tall stem with Larkspur-like 
flowers of white or a curious dark pink, and shin- 
ing Ash-like leaves, whence its name, the little 
Ash. It is one of the finest plants of the old-fash- 
ioned garden ; fine in bloom, fine in habit of growth, 
and it even has decorative seed vessels. It is as 
ready of scent as anything in the garden ; if you but 
brush against leaf, stem, flower, or seed, as you walk 
down the garden path, it gives forth a penetrating 
perfume, that you think at first is like Lemon, then 
like Anise, then like Lavender; until you finally de- 
cide it is like nothing save Fraxinella. As with the 
blossoms of the Calycanthus shrub, you can never 
mistake the perfume, when once you know it, for 
anything else. It is a scent of distinction. Through 
this individuality it is, therefore, full of associations, 
and correspondingly beloved. 



CHAPTER XXI 



FLOWERS OF MYSTERY 




" Let thy upsoaring vision range at large 
This garden through : for so by ray divine 
Kindled, thy ken a magic flight shall mount." 

— Gary's Translation of Dante. 

OGIES and fairies, a sense of eeri- 
ness, came to every garden-bred 
child of any imagination in connec- 
tion with certain flowers. These 
flowers seemed to be regarded thus 
through no special rule or reason. 
With some there may have been 
slight associations with fairy lore, or medicinal usage, 
or a hint of meretriciousness. Sometimes the 
child hardly formulated his thought of the flower, 
vet the dread or dislike or curiosity existed. My 
own notions were absolutely baseless, and usually 
absurd. I doubt if we communicated these fancies 
to each other save in a few cases, as of the Monk's- 
hood, when we had been warned that the flower was 
poisonous. 

I have read with much interest Dr. Forbes Wat- 
son's account of plants that filled his childish mind 
with mysterious awe and wonder ; among them were 

2F 433 



434 Old Time Gardens 

the Spurge, Henbane, Rue, Dogtooth Violet, Ni- 
gella, and pink Marsh Mallow. The latter has ever 
been to me one of the most cheerful of blossoms. 1 
did not know it in my earliest childhood, and never 
saw it in gardens till recent years. It is too close a 
cousin of the Hollyhock ever to seem to me aught 
but a happy flower. Henbane and Rue I did not 
know, but I share his feeling toward the others, 
though I could not carry it to the extent of fancy- 
ing these the plants which a young man gathered, 
distilled, and gave to his betrothed as a poison. 

There has ever been much uncanny suggestion in 
the Cypress Spurge. I never should have picked it 
had I found it in trim gardens ; but I saw it only in 
forlorn and neglected spots. Perhaps its sombre 
tinge may come now from association, since it is 
often seen in country graveyards ; and I heard a 
country woman once call it " Graveyard Ground 
Pine." But this association was not what influ- 
enced my childhood, for I never went then to grave- 
yards. 

In driving along our New England roads I am 
ever reminded of Parkinson's dictum that " Spurge 
once planted will hardly be got rid out again." For 
by every decaying old house, in every deserted gar- 
den, and by the roadside where houses may have been, 
grows and spreads this Cypress Spurge. I know a 
large orchard in Narragansett from which grass has 
wholly vanished ; it has been crowded out by the 
ugly little plant, which has even invaded the adjoin- 
ing woods. 

I wonder why every one in colonial days planted 



Flowers of Mystery 43^ 

it, for it is said to be poisonous in its contact to some 
follcs, and virulently poisonous to eat — though I 
am sure no one ever wanted to eat it. The colo- 
nists even brought it over from England, when we 
had here such lovely native plants. It seldom 
flowers. Old New England names for it are Love- 
in-a-huddle and Seven Sisters ; not over significant, 
but of interest, as folk-names always are. 

I join with Dr. Forbes Watson in finding the 
Nigella uncanny. It has a half-spidery look, that 
seems ungracious in a flower. Its names are curi- 
ous : Love-in-a-mist, Love-in-a-puzzle, Love-in-a- 
tangle, Puzzle-love, Devil-in-a-bush, Katherine- 
flowers — another of the many allusions to St. 
Katherine and her wheel ; and the persistent styles 
do resemble the spokes of a wheel. A name given 
it in a cottage garden in Wayland was Blue Spider- 
flower, which seems more suited than that of Spider- 
wort for the Tradescantia. Spiderwort, like all 
"three-cornered" flowers, is a flower of mystery; 
and so little cared for to-day that it is almost ex- 
tinct in our gardens, save where it persists in out- 
of-the-way spots. A splendid clump of it is here 
shown, which grows still in the Worcester garden 
I so loved in my childhood. In this plant the 
old imagined tracings of spider's legs in the leaves 
can scarce be seen. With the fanciful notion of 
" like curing like " ever found in old medical recipes, 
Gerarde says, vaguely, the leaves are good for 
" the Bite of that Great Spider," a creature also of 
mystery. 

Perhaps if the clear blue flowers kept open 



436 



Old Time Gardens 



throughout the day, the Spiderwort would be more 
tolerated, for this picture certainly has a Japanesque 
appearance, and what we must acknowledge was tar 
more characteristic of old-time flowers than of many 

new ones, a 
wonderful indi- 
viduality; there 
was no sameness 
of outline. I 
could draw the 
outline of a 
dozen blossoms 
of our modern 
gardens, and 
you could not 
in a careless 
glance distin- 
guish one from 
the other : Cos- 
mos, Anemone 
japonic a^ single 
Dahlias, and 
S u n f lo w e r s, 
Gaillardia, Ga- 
zanias, all such 
simple Rose 
forms. 

There was a 

quaint and mysterious annual in ancient gardens, 
called Shell flower, or Molucca Balm, which is not 
found now even on seedsmen's special lists of old- 
fashioned plants. The flower was white, pink- 




Love-in-a-mist. 



Flowers of Mystery 437 

tipped, and set in a cup-shaped calyx an inch 
long, which was bigger than the flower itself. The 
plant stood two or three feet high, and the sweet- 
scented flowers were in whorls of five or six on a 
stern. It is a good example of my assertion that 
the old flowers had queerer shapes than modern ones, 
and were made of queer materials ; the calyx of this 
Shell flower is of such singular quality and fibre. 

The Dog-tooth Violet always had to me a sickly 
look, but its leaves give it its special ofi^ensiveness ; 
all spotted leaves, or flower petals which showed the 
slightest resemblance to the markings of a snake or 
lizard, always filled me with dislike. Among them 
I included Lungwort (Pulmonaria), a flower which 
seems suddenly to have disappeared from many 
gardens, even old-fashioned ones, just as it has dis- 
appeared from medicine. Not a gardener could be 
found in our public parks in New York who had 
ever seen it, or knew it, though there is in Prospect 
Park a well-filled and noteworthy " Old-fashioned 
Garden." Let me add, in passing, that nothing in 
the entire park system — greenhouses, water gardens, 
Italian gardens — aflbrds such delight to the public 
as this old-fashioned garden. 

The changing blue and pink flowers of the Lung- 
wort, somewhat characteristic of its family, are curious 
also. This plant was also known by the singular 
name of Joseph-and-Mary ; the pink flowers being 
the emblem of Joseph ; the blue of the Blessed Vir- 
gin Mary. Lady's-tears was an allied name, from a 
legend that the Virgin Mary's tears fell on the 
leaves, causing the white spots to grow in them. 



438 Old Time Gardens 

and that one of her blue eyes became red from exces- 
sive weeping. It was held to be unlucky even to 
destroy the plant. Soldier-and-his-wife also had 
reference to the red and blue tints- of the flower. 

A cousin of the Lungwort, our native Mertensia 
virginka, has in the young plant an equally singular 
leafage ; every ordinary process of leaf progress is 
reversed : the young shoots are not a tender green, 
but are almost black, and change gradually in leaf, 
stem, and flower calyx to an odd light green in 
which the dark color lingers in veins and spots until 
the plant is in its full flower of tender blue, lilac, 
and pink. " Blue and pink ladies " we used to call 
the blossoms when we hung them on pins for a 
fairy dance. 

The Alstroemeria is another spotted flower of the 
old borders, curious in its funnel-shaped blooms, 
edged and lined with tiny brown and green spots. 
It is more grotesque than beautiful, but was beloved 
in a day that deemed the Tiger Lily the most beauti- 
ful of all lilies. 

The aversion I feel for spotted leaves does not 
extend to striped ones, though I care little for varie- 
gated or striped foliage in a garden. I like the 
striped white and green leaves of one variety of our 
garden Iris, and of our common Sweet Flag (Cala- 
mus), which are decorative to a most satisfactory 
degree. The firm ribbon leaves of the striped 
Sweet Flag never turn brown in the driest summer, 
and grow very tall ; a tub of it kept well watered is 
a thing of surprising beauty, and the plants are very 
handsome in the rock garden. I wonder what the 



Flowers of Mystery 439 

bees seek in the leaves! they throng its green and 
white blades in May, finding something, I am sure, 
besides the delightful scent ; though I do not note 
that they pierce the veins of the plant for the sap, 
as I have known them to do along the large veins 
of certain palm leaves. I have seen bees often act 
as though they were sniffing a flower with apprecia- 
tion, not gathering honey. The only endeared 
striped leaf was that of the Striped Grass — Gar- 
dener's Garters we called it. Clumps of it growing 
at Van Cortlandt Manor are here shown. We 
children used to run to the great plants of Striped 
Grass at the end of the garden as to a toy ribbon 
shop. The long blades of Grass looked like some 
antique gauze ribbons. They were very modish 
for dolls' wear, very useful to shape pin-a-sights, 
those very useful things, and very pretty to tie up 
posies. Under favorable circumstances this garden 
child might become a garden pest, a spreading weed. 
I never saw a more curious garden stray than an 
entire dooryard and farm garden — certainly two 
acres in extent, covered with Striped Grass, save 
where a few persistent Tiger Lilies pierced through 
the striped leaves. Even among the deserted 
hearthstones and tumble-down chimneys the striped 
leaves ran up among the roofless walls. 

Let me state here that the suggestion of mystery 
in a flower did not always make me dislike it ; some- 
times it added a charm. The Periwinkle — Ground 
Myrtle, we used to call it — was one of the most mys- 
terious and elusive flowers I knew, and other chil- 
dren thus regarded it ; but I had a deep affection 



440 



Old Time Gardens 



for its lovely blue stars and clean, glossy leaves, a 
special love, since it was the first flower I saw 




Gardener's Garters, at Van Cortlandt Manor. 



blooming out of doors after a severe illness, and it 
seemed to welcome me back to life. 



Flowers of Mystery 441 

The name is from the French Pervenche, which 
suffers sadly by being changed into the clumsy Peri- 
winkle. Everywhere it is a flower of mystery ; it 
is the " Violette des Sorciers " of the French. Sad- 
der is its Tuscan name, " Flower of death," for it is 
used there as garlands at the burial of children ; 
and is often planted on graves, just as it is here. A 
far happier folk-name was Joy-of-the-ground, and 
to my mind better suited to the cheerful, healthy 
little plant. 

An ancient medical manuscript gives this descrip- 
tion of the Periwinkle, which for directness and 
lucidity can scarcely be excelled : — 

" Parvvyke is an erbe grene of colour, 
In tyme of May he bereth blue flour. 
Ye lef is thicke, schinede and styf. 
As is ye grene jvvy lefe. 
Vnder bred and uerhand round, 
Men call it ye joy of grovvnde." 

On the list of the Boston seedsman (given on 
page 23 ^t ^^q-) is Venus'-navelwort. I lingered this 
summer by an ancient front yard in Marblehead, 
and in the shade of the low-lying gray-shingled 
house I saw a refined plant with which I was wholly 
unacquainted, lying like a little dun cloud on the 
border, a pleasing plant with cinereous foliage, in 
color like the silvery gray of the house, shaded with 
a bluer tint and bearing a dainty milk-white bloom. 
This modest flower had that power of catching the 
attention in spite of the high and striking colors of 
its neighbors, such as a simple gown of gray and 



44^ Old Time Gardens 

white, if of graceful cut and shape, will have among 
gay-colored silk attire — the charm of Quaker garb, 
even though its shape be ugly. You know how 
ready is the owner of such a garden to talk of her 
favorites, and soon I was told that this plant was 
" Navy-work." I accepted this name in this old 
maritime town as possibly a local folk-name, yet I 
was puzzled by a haunting memory of having heard 
some similar title. A later search in a botany re- 
vealed the original, Venus'-navelwort. 

I deem it right to state in this connection that any 
such corruption of the old name of a flower is very 
unusual in Massachusetts, where the English tongue 
is spoken by all of Massachusetts descent in much 
purity of pronunciation. 

There is no doubt that all the flowers of the old 
garden were far more suggestive, more full of mean- 
ing, than those given to us by modern florists. This 
does not come wholly from association, as many 
fancy, but from an inherent quality of the flower 
itself. I never saw Honeywort (Cerinthe) till five 
years ago, and then it was not in an old-fashioned 
garden ; but the moment I beheld the graceful, 
drooping flowers in the flower bed, the yellow and 
purple-toothed corolla caught my eye, as it caught 
my fancy; it seemed to mean something. I was 
not surprised to learn that it was an ancient favorite 
of colonial days. The leaves of Honeywort are 
often lightly spotted, which may be one of its ele- 
ments of mystery. Honeywort is seldom seen even 
in our oldest gardens ; but it is a beautiful flower and 
a most hardy annual, and deserves to be reintroduced. 




Garden Walk at The Manse, Deerfield, Massachusetts. 



Flowers of Mystery 443 

A great favorite in the old garden was the splen- 
did scarlet Lychnis, to which in New England is 
given the name of London Pride. There are two 
old varieties : one has four petals with squared ends, 
and is called, from the shape of the expanded flower, 
the Maltese Cross ; the other, called Scarlet Light- 
ning, is shown on a succeeding page; it has five 
deeply-nicked petals. It is a flower of midsummer 
eve and magic power, and I think it must have 
some connection with the Crusaders, being called by 
Gerarde Floure of Jerusalem, and Flower of Candy. 
The five-petalled form is rarely seen ; in one old 
family I know it is so cherished, and deemed so 
magic a home-maker, that every bride who has gone 
from that home for over a hundred years has borne 
away a plant of that London Pride ; it has really 
become a Family Pride. 

Another plant of mysterious suggestion was the 
common Plantain. This was not an unaided instinct 
of my childhood, but came to me through an expla- 
nation of the lines in the chapter, "The White 
Man's Foot," in Hiawatha : — 

" Whereso'er they tread, beneath them 
Springs a flower unknown among us ; 
Springs the White Man's Foot in blossom." 

After my father showed me the Plantain as the 
" White Man's Foot," I ever regarded it with a sense 
of its unusual power ; and I used often to wonder, 
when I found it growing in the grass, who had 
stepped there. I have permanently associated with 
the Plantain or Waybred a curious and distasteful 



444 Old Time Gardens 

trick of my memory. We recall our American 
humorist's lament over the haunting lines from the 
car-conductor's orders, which filled his brain and ears 
from the moment he read them, wholly by chance, 
and which he tried vainly to forget. A similar 
obsession filled me when I read the spirited apos- 
trophe to the Plantain or Waybred, in Cockayne's 
translation of i^lfric's Lacunga, a book of leech- 
craft of the eleventh century : — 

"And thou Waybroad, 
Mother of worts. 
Over thee carts creaked, 
Over thee Oueens rode, 
Over thee brides bridalled. 
Over thee bulls breathed. 
All these thou withstoodst. 
Venom and vile things. 
And all the loathly things. 
That through the land rove." 

I could not thrust them out of my mind ; worse 
still, I kept manufacturing for the poem scores of 
lines of similar metre. I never shall forget the 
Plantain, it won't let me forget it. 

The Orpine was a flower linked with tradition 
and mystery in England, there were scores of fanciful 
notions connected with it. It has grown to be a 
spreading weed in some parts of New England, but 
it has lost both its mystery and its flowers. The 
only bed of flowering Orpine I ever saw in America 
was in the millyard of Miller Rose at Kettle Hole — 
and a really lovely expanse of bloom it was, broken 
only by old worn millstones which formed the door- 



Flowers of Mystery 



445 



steps. He told with pride that his grandmother 
planted it, and "it was the flowering variety that no 
one else had in Rhode Island, not even in green- 
houses in Newport." Miller Rose ground corn meal 
and flour with ancient millstones, and infinitely better 
were his grindings than "store meal." He could tell 
you, with prolonged detail, of the new-fangled roller 
he bought and used 
one week, and not a 
decent Johnny-cake 
could be made from 
the meal, and it 
shamed him. So he 
threw away all the 
meal he hadn't sold ; 
and then the new 
machinery was pulled 
out and the millstones 
replaced, " to await the 
Lord's coming," he 
added, being a Second 
Adventist — or by his 
own title a "Christa- 
delphian and an Old 
Bachelor." He was a 
famous preacher, hav- 
ing a pulpit built of heavy stones, in the woods near 
his mill. A little trying it was to hear the outpour- 
ings of his long sermons on summer afternoons, 
while you waited for him to come down from his 
pulpit and his prophesyings to give you your bag 
of meal. A tithing of time he gave each day to the 





& T 


r- 

A 




1 





London Pride. 



446 Old Time Gardens 

Lord, two hours and a half of preaching — and 
doubtless far more than a tithe of his income to 
the poor. In sentimental association with his name, 
he had a few straggling Roses around his millyard 
— all old-time varieties ; and, with Orpine and Sweet- 
brier, he could gather a very pretty posy for all who 
came to Kettle Hole. 

We constantly read of Fritillaries in the river fields 
sung of Matthew Arnold. In a charming book of 
English country life, Idlehurst, I read how closely 
the flower is still associated with Oxford life, recall- 
ing ever the Ifiley and Kensington meadows to all 
Oxford men. The author tells that "quite unlikely 
sorts of men used to pick bunches of the flowers, 
and we would come up the towpath with our spoils." 
Fritillaries grew in my mother's garden; I cannot 
now recall another garden in America where I have 
ever seen them in bloom. They certainly are not 
common. On a succeeding page are shown the 
blossoms of the white Fritillary my mother planted 
and loved. Can you not believe that we love them 
still } They have spread but little, neither have 
they dwindled nor died. Each year they seem to 
us the very same blossoms she loved. 

Our cyclopaedias of gardening tell us that the 
Fritillaries spread freely ; but E. V. B. writes of them 
in her exquisite English : " Slow in growth as the 
Fritillaries are, they are ever sure. When they once 
take root, there they stay forever, with a constancy 
unknown in our human world. They may be 
trusted, however late their coming. In the fresh 
vigor of its youth was there ever seen any other 



Flowers of Mystery 447 

flower planned so exquisitely, fashioned so slenderly ! 
The pink symmetry of Kalmia perhaps comes near- 
est this perfection, with the dehcately curved and 
rounded angles of its bloom," 

In no garden, no mitter how modern, could the 
Fritillaries ever look to me aught but antique and 
classic. They are as essentially of the past, even to 
the careless eye, as an antique lamp or brazier. 
Quaint, too, is the fabric of their coats, like some 
old silken stuff of paduasoy or sarsenet. All are 
checkered, as their name indicates. Even the white 
flowers bear little birthmarks of checkered lines. 
They were among the famous dancers in my moth- 
er's garden, and I can tell you that a country dance 
of Fritillaries in plaided kirtles and green caps is a 
lively sight. Another name for this queer little 
flower is Guinea-hen Flower. Gerarde, with his 
felicity of description, says: — 

"One square is of a greenish-yellow colour, the other 
purple, keeping the same order as well on the back side of 
the flower as on the inside ; although they are blackish in 
one square, and of a violet colour in another : in so much 
that every leafe (of the flower) seemeth to be the feather of 
a Ginnie hen, whereof it took its name." 

A strong personal trait of the Fritillaries (for I 
may so speak of flowers I love) is their air of mys- 
tery. They mean something I cannot fathom ; they 
look it, but cannot tell it. Fritillaries were a flower 
of significance even in Elizabethan days. They were 
made into little buttonhole posies, and, as Park- 
inson says, " worn abroad by curious lovers of these 



448 



Old Time Gardens 



delights." In California grow wild a dozen varie- 
ties ; the best known of these is recurved, but it 
does not droop, and is to all outward glance an 
Anemone, and has lost in that new world much the 
mvsterv of the old herbalist's "Checker Lily," save 
the checkers ; these always are visible. 

The Cyclamen and Dodecatheon lav their ears 
back like a vicious horse. Both have an eerie aspect, 





* 

ujy 


l^jM..i\\ 




'. :;a. : 




I^Ih^ 



White Fritillaria. 



as if turned upside down, as has also the Nightshade. 
I knew a little child, a flower lover from babyhood, 
who feared to touch the Cyclamen, and even cried 
if any attempt was made to have her touch the 
flower. When older, she said that she had feared 
the flower would sting her. 

I have often a sense of mysterious meaning in a 
vine, it seems so plainly to reach out to attract your 



Flowers of Mystery 449 

attention. I recall once being seated on the door- 
step of a deserted farm-house, musing a little over 
the sad thought of this lost home, when suddenly 
someone tapped me on the cheek — 1 suppose I 
ought to say some thing, though it seemed a human 
touch. It was a spray of Matrimony vine, twenty 
feet long or more, that had reached around a corner, 
and helped by a breeze, had appealed to me for sym- 
pathy and companionship. I answered by following 
it around the corner. It had been trained up to a 
little shelf-like ledge or roof, over what had been a 
pantry window, and hung in long lines of heavy 
shade. It said to me: " Here once lived a flower- 
loving woman and a man who cared for her comfort 
and pleasure. She planted me when she, and the 
man, and the house were young, and he made the 
window shelter, and trained m.e over it, to make 
cool and green the window where she worked. I 
was the symbol of their happy married love. See ! 
there they lie, under the gray stone beneath those 
cedars. Their children all are far away, but every 
year I grow fresh and green, though I find it lonely 
here now." To me, the Matrimony vine is ever a 
plant of interest, and it may be very beautiful, if 
cared for. On page 186 is shown the lovely growth 
on the porch at Van Cortlandt Manor. 

With a sentiment of wonder and inquiry, not un- 
mixed with mystery, do we regard many flowers, 
which are described in our botanies as Garden Es- 
capes. This Matrimony vine is one of the many 
creeping, climbing things that have wandered away 
from houses. Honeysuckles and Trumpet-vines 



450 Old Time Gardens 

are far travellers. I saw once in a remote and wild 
spot a great boulder surrounded with bushes and 
all were covered with the old Coral or Trumpet 
Honeysuckle ; it had such a familiar air, and yet 
seemed to have gained a certain knowingness by its 
travels. 

This element of mystery does not extend to the 
flowers which I am told once were in trim gardens, 
but which I have never seen there, such as Ox-eye 
Daisies, Scotch Thistles, Chamomile, Tansy, Berga- 
mot. Yarrow, and all of the Mint fimily ; they are 
to me truly wild. But when I find flowers still cher- 
ished in our gardens, growing also in some wild spot, 
I regard them with wonder, A great expanse of Co- 
reopsis, a field of Grape Hyacinth or Star of Bethle- 
hem, roadsides of Coronilla or Moneywort, rows 
of red Day Lily and Tiger Lily, patches of Sun- 
flowers or Jerusalem Artichokes, all are matters of 
thought; we long to trace their wanderings, to have 
them tell whence and how they came. Bouncing 
Bet is too cheerful and rollicking a wanderer to 
awaken sentiment. How gladly has she been wel- 
comed to our fields and roadsides. I could not will- 
ingly spare her in our country drives, even to become 
again a cherished garden dweller. She rivals the Suc- 
cory in beautifying arid dust heaps and l)arren rail- 
road cuts, with her tencier opalescent pink tints. How 
wholesome and hearty her growth, how pleasant her 
fragrance. We can never see her too often, nor ever 
stigmatize her, as have been so many of our garden 
escapes, as " Now a dreaded weed." 

One of the weirdest of all flowers to me is the 



Flowers of Mystery 



451 



Butter-and-eggs, the Toad-flax, which was once a 
garden child, but has run away from gardens to wan- 
der in every field in the land. I haven't the slight- 
est reason for this regard of Butter-and-eggs, and I 
believe it is peculiar to myself, just as is Dr. Forbes 
Watson's regard of the Marshmallow to him. I 




Bouncing b-it. 

have no uncanny or sad associations with it, and I 
never heard anything "queer" about it. Thirty 
years ago, in a locality I knew well in central Massa- 
chusetts, Butter-and-eggs was far from common ; 1 
even remember the first time I saw it and was told 
its quaint name; now it grows there and every- 
where; it is a persistent weed. John Burroughs 



452 Old Time Gardens 

calls it " the hateful Toad-flax," and old Manasseh 
Cutler, in a curious mixture of compliment and slur, 
"a common, handsome, tedious weed." It travels 
above ground and below ground, and in some soils 
will run out the grass. It knows how to allure the 
bumblebee, however, and has honey in its heart. I 
think it a lovely flower, though it is queer; and it is 
a delight to the scientific botanist, in the delicate 
perfection of its methods and means of fertilization. 

The greatest beauty of this flower is in late au- 
tumn, when it springs up densely in shaven fields. 
I have seen, during the last week in October, fields 
entirely filled with its exquisite sulphur-yellow tint, 
one of the most delicate colors in nature; a yellow 
that is luminous at night, and is rivalled only by the 
pale yellow translucent leaves of the Moosewood in 
late autumn, which make such a strange pallid light 
in old forests in the North — a light which dominates 
over every other autumn tint, though the trees which 
bear them are so spindling and low, and little noted 
save in early spring in their rare pinkness, and in 
this their autumn etherealization. And the Moose- 
wood shares the mystery of the Butter-and-eggs as 
well as its color. I should be afraid to drive or 
walk alone in a wood road, when the Moosewood 
leaves were turning yellow in autumn. I shall 
never forget them in Dublin, New Hampshire, 
driving through what our delightful Yankee chari- 
oteer and guide called " only a cat-road." 

This was to me a new use of the word cat as a 
praenomen, though I knew, as did Dr. Holmes and 
Hosea Biglow, and every good New Englander, 



Flowers of Mystery 453 

that " cat-sticks " were poor spindling sticks, either 
growing or in a load of cut wood. I heard a coun- 
try parson say as he regarded ruefully a gift of a 
sled load of firewood, " The deacon's load is all cat- 
sticks." Of course a cat-stick was also the stick 
used in the game of ball called tip-cat. Myself 
when young did much practise another loved ball 
game, "one old cat," a local favorite, perhaps a local 
name. " Cat-ice," too, is a good old New England 
word and thing; it is the thin layer of brittle ice 
formed over puddles, from under which the water 
has afterward receded. If there lives a New Eng- 
lander too old or too hurried to rejoice in stepping 
upon and crackling the first "cat-ice" on a late au- 
tumn morning, then he is a man ; for no New Eng- 
land girl, a century old, could be thus indiflPerent. 
It is akin to rustling through the deep-lying autumn 
leaves, which affords a pleasure so absurdly dispro- 
portioned and inexplicable that it is almost mysteri- 
ous. Some of us gouty ones, alas ! have had to 
give up the " cat-slides " which were also such a de- 
light ; the little stretches of glare ice to which we 
ran a few steps and slid rapidly over with the im- 
petus. But I must not let my New England folk- 
words lure me away from my subject, even on a 
tempting " cat-slide." 

Though garden flowers run everywhere that they 
will, they are not easily forced to become wild 
flowers. We hear much of the pleasure of sowing 
garden seeds along the roadside, and children are 
urged to make beautiful wild gardens to be the delight 
of passers-by. Alphonse Karr wrote most charmingly 



454 Old Time Gardens 

of such sowings, and he pictured the deHght and sur- 
prise of country folk in the future when they found 
the choice blooms, and the confusion of learned bota- 
nists in years to come. The delight and surprise 
and confusion would have been if any of his seeds 
sprou-ted and lived ! A few years ago a kindly 
member of our United States Congress sent to me 
from the vast seed stores of our national Agricul- 
tural Department, thousands of packages of seeds 
of common garden flowers to be given to the 
poor children in public kindergartens and pri- 
mary schools in our great city. The seeds were 
given to hundreds of eager flower lovers, but starch 
boxes and old tubs and flower pots formed the 
limited gardens of those Irish and Italian children, 
and the Government had sent to me such " hats full, 
sacks full, bushel-bags full," that I was left with an 
embarrassment of riches. I sent them to Narragan- 
sett and amused myself thereafter by sowing several 
pecks of garden seeds along the country roadsides ; 
never, to my knowledge, did one seed live and pro- 
duce a plant. I watched eagerly for certain plant- 
ings of Poppies, Candytuft, Morning-glories, and 
even the indomitable Portulaca ; not one appeared. 
I don't know why I should think I could improve 
on nature ; for I drove through that road yesterday 
and it was radiant with Wild Rose bloom, white 
Elder, and Meadow Beauty; a combination that 
Thoreau thought and that I think could not 
be excelled in a cultivated garden. Above all, 
these are the right things in the right place, which 
my garden plants would not have been. I am sure 



Flowers of Mystery 



455 



that if they had Hved and crowded out these exquis- 
ite wild flowers I should have been sorry enough. 
The hardy Colchicum or Autumnal Crocus is sel- 
dom seen in our gardens ; nor do I care for its in- 
crease, even when planted in the grass. It bears to 
me none of the delight which accompanies the spring 
Crocus, but seems to be out of keeping with the 




Fountain at Yaddo. 



autumnal season. Rising bare of leaves, it has 
but a seminatural aspect, as if it had been stuck 
rootless in the ground like the leafless, stemless 
blooms of a child's posy bed. Its English name — 
Naked Boys — seems suited to it. The Colchicum 
is associated in my mind with the Indian Pipe and 
similar growths ; it is curious, but it isn't pleasing. 
As the Indian Pipe could not be lured within gar- 



456 



Old Time Gardens 



den walls, I will not write of it here, save to say 
that no one could ever see it growing in its shadowy 
home in the woods without yielding to its air of 



f 








«^^ 


r.- 


.-. -i>^ •«•'"•' 


Jk 


^^^H 


^^^^^ME^^^R^ ^1 




"^ 




"5r 










T 


^4 



Avenue of White Pines at Wellesley, Mass., the Country-seat of Hollis 
H. Hunnewell, Esq. 

mystery. It is the weirdest flower that grows, so 
palpably ghastly that we feel almost a cheerful sat- 
isfaction in the perfection of its performance and our 



Flowers of Mystery 457 

own responsive thrill, just as we do in a good ghost 
story. 

Many wild flowers which we have transplanted to 
our gardens are full of magic and charm. In some, 
such as Thyme and Elder, these elements come 
from English tradition. In other flowers the quality 
of mystery is inherent. In childhood I absolutely 
abhorred Bloodroot ; it seemed to me a fearsome 
thing when first I picked it. I remember well my 
dismay, it was so pure, so sleek, so innocent of 
face, yet bleeding at a touch, like a murdered man 
in the Blood Ordeal. 

The Trillium, Wake-robin, is a wonderful flower. 
I have seen it growing in a luxuriance almost beyond 
belief in lonely Canadian forests on the Laurentian 
Mountains. At this mining settlement, so remote 
that it was unvisited even by the omnipresent and 
faithful Canadian priest, was a wealth of plant growth 
which seemed fairly tropical. The starry flowers of 
the Trillium hung on long peduncles, and the two- 
inch diameter of the ordinary blossom was doubled. 
The Painted Trillium bore rich flowers of pink and 
wine color, and stood four or five feet from the 
ground. I think no one had ever gathered their 
blooms, for there were no women in this mining 
camp save a few French-Indian servants and one 
Irish cook, and no educated white woman had ever 
been within fifty, perhaps a hundred, miles of the 
place. Every variety of bloom seemed of exagger- 
ated growth, but the Trillium exceeded all. An 
element of mystery surrounds this plant, a quality 
which appertains to all " three-cornered " flowers ; 



458 Old Time Gardens 

perhaps there may be some significance in the three- 
sided form. I felt this influence in the extreme 
when in the presence of this Canadian Trillium, so 
much so that I was depressed by it when wandering 
alone even in the edge of the forest ; and when by 
light o' the moon 1 peered in on this forest garden, 
it was like the vision ot a troop ot trembling white 
ghosts, stimulating to the fancy. It was but a part 
of the whole influence of that place, which was full 
of eerie mystery. For after the countless eons of 
time during which " the earth was without form and 
void, and darkness was upon the face of the earth," 
the waters at last were gathered together and dry 
land appeared. And that dry land which came up 
slowly out of the face of the waters was this Lau- 
rentian range. And when at God's command " on 
the third day " the earth brought forth grass, and 
herb yielded seed — lo, among the things which were 
good and beautiful there shone forth upon the earth 
the first starry flowers of the white Trillium. 



CHAPTER XXII 



ROSES OF YESTERDAY 



'• Each morn a thousand Roses brings, you say ; 
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday ?" 

- Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Edward Fitzgerald, 1858. 




HE answer can be given the 
Persian poet that the Rose of 
Yesterday leaves again in the 
heart. The subtle fragrance of 
a Rose can readily conjure in 
our minds a dream of summers 
past, and happy summers to 
come. Many a flower lover since 
Chaucer has felt as did the poet : — 

♦♦The savour of the Roses swote 
Me smote right to the herte rote." 

The old-time Roses possess most fully this hid- 
den power. Sweetest of all was the old Cabbage 
Rose — called by some the Provence Rose — for its 
perfume " to be chronicled and chronicled, and cut 
and chronicled, and all-to-be-praised." Its odor is 
perfection ; it is the standard by which I compare all 
other fragrances. It is not too strong nor too cloy- 
ing, as are some Rose scents; it is the idealization of 
that distinctive sweetness of the Rose family which 

459 



460 Old Time Gardens 

other Roses have to some degree. The color of the 
Cabbage Rose is very warm and pleasing, a clear, 
happy pink, and the flower has a wholesome, open 
look ; but it is not a beautiful Rose by florists' stand- 
ards, — few of the old Roses are, — and it is rather 
awkward in growth. The Cabbage Rose is said to 
have been a favorite in ancient Rome. I wish it had 
a prettier name ; it is certainly worthy one. 

The Hundred-leaved Rose was akin to the Cab- 
bage Rose, and shared its delicious fragrance. In its 
rather irregular shape it resembled the present Duke 
of Sussex Rose. 

One of the rarest of old-time Roses in our gar- 
dens to-day is the red and white mottled York and 
Lancaster. It is as old as the sixteenth century. 
Shakespeare writes in the Sonnets : — 

"The Roses fearfully in thorns did stand 
One blushing shame, another white despair. 
A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both." 

They are what Chaucer loved, " sweitie roses red, 
brode, and open also," Roses of a broad, flat expanse 
when in full bloom ; they have a cheerier, heartier, 
more gracious look than many of the new Roses 
that never open far from bud, that seem so pinched 
and narrow. What ineff^able fragrance do they pour 
out from every wide-open flower, a fragrance that 
is the very spirit of the Oriental Attar of Roses ; all 
the sensuous sweetness of the attar is gone, and 
only that which is purest and best remains. I be- 
lieve, in thinking of it, that it equals the perfume 
of the Cabbage Rose, which, ere now, I have always 



Roses of Yesterday 461 

placed first. This York and Lancaster Rose is the 
Rosa mundiy — the rose of the world. A fine plant 
is growing in Hawthorne's old home in Salem. 

Opposite page 462 is an unusual depiction of the 
century-old York and Lancaster Rose still growing 




Violets in Silver Double Coaster. 

and flourishing in the old garden at Van Cortlandt 
Manor. It is from one of the few photographs which 
I have ever seen which make you forgive their lack 
of color. The vigor, the grace, the richness of this 
wonderful Rose certainly are fully shown, though but 
in black and white. I have called this Rose bush a 
century old; it is doubtless much older, but it does 



462 Old Time Gardens 

not seem old ; it is gifted with everlasting youth. 
We know how the Persians gather before a single 
plant in flower ; they spread their rugs, and pray 
before it ; and sit and meditate before it ; sip sher- 
bet, play the lute and guitar in the moonlight ; bring 
their friends and stand as in a vision, then talk in 
praises of it, and then all serenade it with an ode 
from Hafiz and depart. So would I gather my 
friends around this lovely old Rose, and share its 
beauty just as my friends at the manor-house share 
it with me; and as the Persians, we would praise it 
in sunlight and by moonlight, and sing its beauty in 
verses. This York and Lancaster Rose was known 
to Parkinson in his day ; it is his Rosa versicolor. I 
wonder why so few modern gardens contain this 
treasure. 1 know it does not rise to all the stand- 
ards of the modern Rose growers ; but it possesses 
something better — it has a living spirit; it speaks 
of history, romance, sentiment ; it awakens inspira- 
tion and thought, it has an ever living interest, a 
significance. 1 wonder whether a hundred years 
from now any one will stand before some Crimson 
Rambler, which will then be ancient, and feel as I 
do before this York and Lancaster goddess. 

The fragrance of the sweetest Roses — the Dam- 
ask, the Cabbage, the York and Lancaster — is 
beyond any other flower-scent, it is irresistible, en- 
thralling; you cannot leave it. You can push aside 
a Syringa, a Honeysuckle, even a Mignonette, but 
there is a magic something which binds you irrevo- 
cably to the Rose. I have never doubted that the 
Rose has some compelling quality shared not by 




York and Lancaster Rose. 



Roses of Yesterday 463 

other flowers. I know not whether it comes from cen- 
turies of establishment as a race-symbol, or from some 
inherent witchery of the plant, but it certainly exists. 
The variety of Roses known to old American 
gardens, as to English gardens, was few. The Eng- 
lish Eglantine was quickly established here in gar- 
dens and spread to roadsides. The small, ragged, 
cheerful little Cinnamon Rose, now chiefly seen as a 
garden stray, is undoubtedly old. This Rose dif- 
fuses its faint " sinamon smelle " when the petals are 
dried. Nearly all of the Roses vaguely thought to 
be one or two hundred years old date only, within 
our ken, to the earlier years of the nineteenth cen- 
tury. The Seven Sisters Rose, imagined by the 
owner of many a Southern garden to belong to colo- 
nial days, is one of the family Rosa multiflora, intro- 
duced from Japan to England by Thunberg. Its 
catalogue name is Greville. I think the Seven Sisters 
dates back to 1822. The clusters of little double 
blooms of the Seven Sisters are not among our beau- 
tiful Roses, but are planted by the house mistress 
of every Southern home from power of association, 
because they were loved by her grandmothers, if 
not by more distant forbears. The crimson Bour- 
saults are no older. They came from the Swiss Alps 
and therefore are hardy, but they are fussy things, 
needing much pruning and pulling out. I recall that 
they had much longer prickles than the other roses 
in our garden. The beloved little Banksia Rose came 
from China in 1807. The Madame Plantieris a hybrid 
China Rose of much popularity. We have had it 
about seventy or eighty years. In the lovely garden 



464 Old Time Gardens 

of Mrs. Mabel Osgood Wright, author of Flowers 
and Trees in their Haunts, I saw, this spring, a 
giant Madame Plantier which had over five thou- 
sand buds, and which could scarcely be equalled in 
beauty by any modern Roses. Its photograph gives 
scant idea of its size. 

What gratitude we have in spring to the Sweet- 
brier ! How early in the year, from sprouting 
branch and curling leaf, it begins to give forth its 
pure odor! Gracious and lavish plant, beloved in 
scent by every one, you have no rival in the spring 
garden with its pale perfumes. The Sweetbrier and 
Shakespeare's Musk Rose {Rosa tnoschata) are said 
to be the only Roses that at evening pour forth their 
perfume; the others are what Bacon called " flist of 
their odor." 

The June Rose, called by many the Hedgehog 
Rose, was, I think, the first Rose of summer, A 
sturdy plant, about three feet in height ; set thick 
with briers, it well deserved its folk name. The flow- 
ers opened into a saucer of richest carmine, as fra- 
grant as an American Beauty, and the little circles 
of crimson resembling the Rosa rugosa were seen 
in every front dooryard. 

In the Walpole garden from whence came to us 
our beloved Ambrosia, was an ample Box-edged 
flower bed which my mother and the great-aunt 
called The Rosery. One cousin, now living, recalls 
with distinctness its charms in 1 830 ; for it was beauti- 
ful, though the vast riches of the Rose-world of 
China and Japan had not reached it. There grew 
in it, he remembers, Yellow Scotch Roses, Sweet- 



Roses of Yesterday 



465 



brier (or Eglantine), Cinnamon Roses,White Scotch 
Roses, Damask Roses, Blush Roses, Dog Roses (the 
Canker-bloom of Shakespeare), Black Roses, Bur- 
gundy Roses, and Moss Roses. The last-named 
sensitive creatures, so difficult to rear with satisfac- 
tion in such a climate, found in this Rosery by the 




Cinnamon Roses. 

river-side some exact fitness of soil or surroundings, 
or perhaps of fostering care, which in spite of the 
dampness and the constant tendency of all Moss 
Roses to mildew, made them blossom in unrivalled 
perfection. I remember their successors, deplored 
as much inferior to the Roses of 1830, and they 
were the finest Moss Roses I ever saw blooming in 
a garden. An amusing saying of some of the village 



466 Old Time Gardens 

passers-by (with smaller gardens and education) 
showed the universal acknowledgment of the perfec- 
tion of these Roses. These people thought the 
name was Morse Roses and always thus termed 
them, fancying they were named for the family for 
whom the flowers bloomed in such beauty and 
number. 

Among the other Roses named by my cousin I 
recall the White Scotch Rose, sometimes called also 
the Burnet-Ieaved Rose. It was very fragrant, and 
was often chosen for a Sunday posy. There were 
both single and double varieties. 

The Blush Rose {Rosa alba), known also as 
Maiden's blush, was much esteemed for its exquisite 
color; it could be distinguished readily by the 
glaucous hue of the foliage, which always looked 
like the leaves of artificial roses. It was easily 
blighted ; and indeed we must acknowledge that few 
of the old Roses were as certain as their sturdy 
descendants. 

The Damask Rose was the only one ever used in 
careful families and by careful housekeepers for mak- 
ing rose-water. There was a Velvet Rose, darker 
than the Damask and low-growing, evidently the 
same Rose. Both showed plentiful yellow stamens 
in the centres, and had exquisite rich dark leaves. 

The old Black Rose of The Rosery was so suf- 
fused with color-principle, so "color-flushing," that 
even the wood had black and dark red streaks. Its 
petals were purple-black. 

The Burgundy Rose was of the Cabbage Rose 
family ; its flowers were very small, scarce an inch in 



Roses of Yesterday 467 

diameter. There were two varieties : the one my 
cousin called Little Burgundy had clear dark red 
blossoms ; the other, white with pink centres. Both 
were low-growing, small bushes with small leaves. 
They are practically vanished Roses — wholly out 
of cultivation. 

We had other tiny roses ; one was a lovely little 
Rose creature called a Fairy Rose. I haven't seen 
one for years. As I recall them, the Rose plants 
were never a foot in height, and had dainty little 
flower rosettes from a quarter to half an inch in 
diameter set in thick clusters. But the recalled 
dimensions of youth vary so when seen actually in 
the cold light of to-day that perhaps I am wrong in 
my description. This was also called a Pony Rose. 
This Fairy Rose was not the Polyantha which also 
has forty or fifty little roses in a cluster. The single 
Polyantha Rose looks much like its cousin, the 
Blackberry blossom. 

Another small Rose was the Garland Rose. This 
was deemed extremely elegant, and rightfully so. 
It has great corymbs of tiny white blossoms with 
tight little buff buds squeezing out among the open 
Roses. 

Another old favorite was the Rose of Four Sea- 
sons — known also by its French name, Rose de 
■^artre Saisons — which had occasional blooms 
throughout the summer. It may have been the 
foundation of our Hybrid Perpetual Roses. The 
Bourbon Roses were vastly modish ; their round 
smooth petals and oval leaves easily distinguish them 
from other varieties. 



468 Old Time Gardens 

Among the several hundred things I have fully 
planned out to do, to solace my old age after I have 
become a " centurion," is a series of water-color 
drawings of all these old-time Roses, for so many of 
them are already scarce. 

The Michigan Rose which covered the arches in 
Mr. Seward's garden, has clusters of deep pink, 
single, odorless flowers, that fade out nearly white 
after they open. It is our only native Rose that has 
passed into cultivation. From it come many fine 
double-flowered Roses, among them the beautiful 
Baltimore Belle and Queen of the Prairies, which 
were named about 1836 by a Baltimore florist called 
Feast. All its vigorous and hardy descendants are 
scentless save the Gem of the Prairies. It is one of 
the ironies of plant-nomenclature when we have so 
few plant names saved to us from the picturesque 
and often musical speech of the American Indians, 
that the lovely Cherokee Rose, Indian of name, is a 
Chinese Rose. It ought to be a native, for every- 
where throughout our Southern states its pure white 
flowers and glossy evergreen leaves love to grow 
till they form dense thickets. 

People who own fine gardens are nowadays un- 
willing to plant the old " Summer Roses " which 
bloom cheerfully in their own Rose-month and then 
have no more blossoming till the next year ; they 
want a Remontant Rose, which will bloom a second 
time in the autumn, or a Perpetual Rose, which will 
give flowers from June till cut ofi-' by the frost. But 
these latter-named Roses are not only of fine gardens 
but of fine gardeners ; and folk who wish the old 



Roses of Yesterday 469 

simple flower garden which needs no highly-skilled 
care, still are happy in the old Summer Roses I have 
named. 

A Rose hedge is the most beautiful of all garden 
walls and the most ancient. Professor Koch says 
that long before men customarily surrounded their 
gardens with walls, that they had Rose hedges. He 
tells us that each of the four great peoples of Asia 
owned its own beloved Rose, carried in all wander- 
ings, until at last the four became common to all 
races of men. Indo-Germanic stock chose the hun- 
dred-leaved red Rose, Rosa gallica (the best Rose 
for conserves). Rosa damascena^ which blooms 
twice a year, and the Musk Rose were cherished 
by the Semitic people ; these were preferred for 
attar of Roses and Rose water. The yellow Rose, 
Rosa lutea^ or Persian Rose, was the flower of 
the Turkish Mongolian people. Eastern Asia 
is the fatherland of the Indian and Tea Roses. 
The Rose has now become as universal as sunlight. 
Even in Iceland and Lapland grows the lovely Rosa 
nit id a. 

We say these Roses are common to all peoples, 
but we have never in America been able to grow 
yellow Roses in ample bloom in our gardens. 
Many that thrive in English gardens are unknown 
here. The only yellow garden Rose common in 
old gardens was known simply as the " old yellow 
Rose," or Scotch Rose, but it came from the far 
East. In a few localities the yellow Eglantine was 
seen. 

The picturesque old custom of paying a Rose for 



47© Old Time Gardens 

rent was known here. In Manheim, Pennsylvania, 
stands the Zion Lutheran Church, which was gath- 
ered together by Baron William Stiegel, who was 
the first glass and iron manufacturer of note in this 
country. He came to America in 1750, with a 
fortune which would be equal to-day to a million 
dollars, and founded and built and named Man- 
heim. He was a man of deep spiritual and reli- 
gious belief, and of profound sentiment, and when in 
1 77 1 he gave the land to the church, this clause was 
in the indenture : — 

"Yielding and paying therefor unto the said Henry 
William Stiegel, his heirs or assigns, at the said town of 
Manheim, in the Month of June Yearly, forever hereafter, 
the rent of One Red Rose^ if the same shall be lawfully 
demanded." 

Nothing more touching can be imagined than the 
fulfilment each year of this beautiful and symbolic 
ceremony of payment. The little town is rich in 
Roses, and these are gathered freely for the church 
service, when One Red Rose is still paid to the heirs 
of the sainted old baron, who died in 1778, broken 
in health and fortunes, even having languished in 
jail some time for debt. A new church was erected 
on the site of the old one in 1892, and in a beauti- 
ful memorial window the decoration of the Red 
Rose commemorates the sentiment of its benefactor. 

The Rose Tavern, in the neighboring town of 
Bethlehem, stands on land granted for the site of a 
tavern by William Penn, for the yearly rental of 
One Red Rose. 



Roses of Yesterday 471 

In England the payment of a Rose as rent was 
often known. The Bishop of Ely leased Ely house 
in 1576 to Sir Christopher Hatton, Queen Eliza- 
beth's handsome Lord Chancellor, for a Red Rose 
to be paid on Midsummer Day, ten loads of hay 
and ten pounds per annum, and he and his Episco- 
pal successors reserved the right of walking in the 
gardens and gathering twenty bushels of Roses yearly. 
In France there was a feudal right to demand a 
payment of Roses for the making of Rose water. 

Two of our great historians, George Bancroft 
and Francis Parkman, were great rose-growers and 
rose-lovers. I never saw Mr. Parkman's Rose 
Garden, but I remember Mr. Bancroft's well; the 
Tea Roses were especially beautiful. Mr. Bancroft's 
Rose Garden in its earliest days had no rivals in 
America. 

The making of potpourri was common in my 
childhood. While the petals of the Cabbage Rose 
were preferred, all were used. Recipes for making 
potpourri exist in great number ; I have seen several 
in manuscript in old recipe books, one dated 1690. 
The old ones are much simpler than the modern 
ones, and have no strong spices such as cinnamon 
and clove, and no bergamot or mints or strongly 
scented essences or leaves. The best rules gave 
ambergris as one of the ingredients ; this is not 
really a perfume, but gives the potpourri its staying 
power. There is something very pleasant in open- 
ing an old China jar to find it filled with potpourri, 
even if the scent has wholly faded. It tells a story 
of a day when people had time for such things. I 



47^ Old Time Gardens 

read in a letter a century and a half old of a happy 
group of people riding out to the house of the 
provincial governor of New York ; all gathered 
Rose leaves in the governor's garden, and the gov- 
ernor's wife started the distilling of these Rose 
leaves, in her new still, into Rose water, while all 
drank syllabubs and junkets — a pretty Watteau-ish 
scene. 

The hips of wild Roses are a harvest — one 
unused in America in modern days, but in olden 
times they were stewed with sugar and spices, as 
were other fruits. Sauce Saracen, or Sarzyn, was 
made of Rose hips and Almonds pounded together, 
cooked in wine and sweetened. I believe they are 
still cooked by some folks in England, but I never 
heard of their use in America save by one person, 
an elderly Irish woman on a farm in Narragansett, 
Plentiful are the references and rules in old cook- 
books for cooking Rose hips. Parkinson says : 
" Hippes are made into a conserve, also a paste like 
licoris. Cooks and their Mistresses know how to 
prepare from them many fine dishes for the Table." 
Gerarde writes characteristically of the Sweet- 
brier, " The fruit when it is ripe maketh most 
pleasant meats and banqueting dishes, as tarts and 
such-like ; the making whereof I commit to the 
cunning cooke, and teeth to eat them in the rich 
man's mouth." 

Children have ever nibbled Rose hips : — 

" I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws — 
Hard fare, but such as boyish appetite 
Disdains not." 



Roses of Yesterday 473 

The Rose bush furnished another comestible for 
the children's larder, the red succulent shoots of 
common garden and wild Roses. These were known 
by the dainty name of" brier candy," a name appro- 
priate and characteristic, as the folk-names devised 
by children frequently are. 

On the post-road in southern New Hampshire 
stands an old house, which according to its license 
was once " improved " as a tavern, and was famous 
for its ghost and its Roses. The tavern was owned 
by a family of two brothers and two sisters, all un- 
married, as was rather a habit in the Mason family ; 
though when any of the tribe did marry, a vast 
throng of children quickly sprung up to propagate 
the name and sturdy qualities of the race. The 
men were giants, and both men and women were 
hard-working folk of vast endurance and great thrift, 
and, like all of that ilk in New England, they pros- 
pered and grew well-to-do ; great barns and out- 
buildings, all well filled, stretched down along the 
roadside below the house. Joseph Mason could lay 
more feet of stone wall in a day, could plough more 
land, chop down more trees, pull more stumps, than 
any other man in New Hampshire. His sisters 
could bake and brew, make soap, weed the garden, 
spin and weave, unceasingly and untiringly. Their 
garden was a source of purest pleasure to them, as 
well as of hard work ; its borders were so stocked 
with medicinal herbs that it could supply a town- 
ship ; and its old-time flowers furnished seeds and 
slips and bulbs to every other garden within a day's 
driving distance ; but its glory was a garden side to 



474 



Old Time Gardens 



gladden the heart of Omar Khayyam, where two or 
three acres of ground were grown over heavily with 
old-fashioned Roses. These were only the common 
Cinnamon Rose, the beloved Cabbage Rose, and a 
pale pink, spicily scented, large-petalled, scarcely 
double Rose, known to them as the Apothecaries' 




Madame Plantier Rose. 



Rose. Farmer- neighbors wondered at this waste of 
the Masons' good land in this unprofitable Rose 
crop, but it had a certain use. There came every 
June to this Rose garden all the children of the 
vicinity, bearing milk-pails, homespun bags, birch 
baskets, to gather Rose petals. They nearly all 
had Roses at their homes, but not the Mason 



Roses of Yesterday 475 

Roses. These Rose leaves were carried carefully to 
each home, and were packed in stone jars with alter- 
nate layers of brown or scant maple sugar. Soon all 
conglomerated into a gummy, brown, close-grained, 
not over alluring substance to the vision, which was 
known among the children by the unromantic name 
of " Rose tobacco." This cloying confection was 
in high repute. It was chipped off and eaten in 
tiny bits, and much treasured — as a love token, or 
reward of good behavior. 

The Mason house was a tavern. It was not one 
of the regular stopping-places on the turnpike road, 
being rather too near the town to gather any travel 
of teamsters or coaches ; but passers-by who knew 
the house and the Masons loved to stop there. 
Everything in the well-kept, well-filled house and 
barns contributed to the comfort of guests, and it was 
known that the Masons cared more for the company 
of the traveller than for his pay. 

There was a shadow on this house. The young- 
est of the family, Hannah, had been jilted in her 
youth, " shabbed " as said the country folks. 
After several years of " constant company-keeping" 
with the son of a neighbor, during which time many a 
linen sheet and tablecloth, many a fine blanket, had 
been spun and woven, and laid aside with the tacit 
understanding that it was part of her wedding outfit, 
the man had fallen suddenly and violently in love 
with a girl who came from a neighboring town to 
sing a single Sunday in the church choir. He had 
driven to her home the following week, carried her 
off to a parson in a third town, married her, and 



476 Old Time Gardens 

brought her to his home in a triumph of enthusiasm 
and romance, which quickly fled before the open dis- 
like and reprehension of his upright neighbors, who 
abhorred his fickleness, and before the years of ill 
health and ill temper of the hard-worked, faded wife. 
Many children were born to them ; two lived, sickly 
little souls, who, unconscious of the blemish on their 
parents' past, came with the other children every 
June, and gathered Rose leaves under Hannah 
Mason's window. 

Hannah Mason was called crazy. After her 
desertion she never entered any door save that of her 
own home, never went to a neighbor's house either 
in time of joy or sorrow; queerer still, never went to 
church. All her life, her thoughts, her vast strength, 
went into hard work. No labor was too heavy or 
too formidable for her. She would hetchel flax for 
weeks, spin unceasingly, and weave on a hand loom, 
most wearing of women's work, without thought of 
rest. No single household could supply work for 
such an untiring machine, especially when all labored 
industriouslv — so work was brought to her from 
the neighbors. Not a wedding outfit for miles 
around was complete without one of Hannah Ma- 
son's fine tablecloths. Every corpse was buried in 
one of her linen shrouds. Sailmakers and boat- 
owners in Portsmouth sent up to her for strong 
duck for their sails. Lads went up to Dartmouth 
College in suits of her homespun. Many a teamster 
on the road slept under Hannah Mason's heavy gray 
woollen blankets, and his wagon tilts were covered 
with her canvas. Her bank account grew rapidly 




Sun-dial and Roses at Van Cortlandt Manor. 



Roses of Yesterday 477 

— she became rich as fast as her old lover became 
poor. But all this cast a shadow on the house. 
Sojourners would waken and hear throughout the 
night some steady sound, a scratching of the cards, 
a whirring of the spinning-wheel, the thump-thump 
of the loom. Some said she never slept, and could 
well grow rich when she worked all night. 

At last the woman who had stolen her lover — the 
poor, sickly wife — died. The widower, burdened 
hopelessly with debts, of course put up in her mem- 
ory a fine headstone extolling her virtues. One 
wakeful night, with a sentiment often found in such 
natures, he went to the graveyard to view his proud 
but unpaid-for possession. The grass deadened his 
footsteps, and not till he reached the grave did there 
rise up from the ground a tall, ghostly figure dressed 
all in undyed gray wool of her own weaving. It was 
Hannah Mason. " Hannah," whimpered the wid- 
ower, trying to take her hand, — with equal thought 
of her long bank account and his unpaid-for head- 
stone, — "I never really loved any one but you." 
She broke away from him with an indescribable ges- 
ture of contempt and dignity, and went home. She 
died suddenly four days later of pneumonia, either 
from the shock or the damp midnight chill of the 
graveyard. 

As months passed on travellers still came to the 
tavern, and the story began to be whispered from 
one to another that the house was haunted by the 
ghost of Hannah Mason. Strange sounds were 
heard at night from the garret where she had always 
worked ; most plainly of all could be heard the 



478 Old Time Gardens 

whirring of her great wool wheel. When this 
rumor reached the brothers' ears, they determined 
to investigate the story and end it forever. That 
night their vigil began, and soon the sound of the 
wheel was heard. They entered the garret, and to 
their surprise found the wheel spinning round. 
Then Joseph Mason went to the garret and seated 
himself for closer and more determined watch. He 
sat in the dark till the wheel began to revolve, then 
struck a sudden light and found the ghost. A great 
rat had run out on the spoke of the wheel and when 
he reached the broad rim had started a treadmill of 
his own — which made the ghostly sound as it whirred 
around. Soon this rat grew so tame that he would 
come out on the spinning-wheel in the daytime, and 
several others were seen to run around in the wheel 
as if it were a pleasant recreation. 

The old brick house still stands with its great 
grove of Sugar Maples, but it is silent, for the 
Masons all sleep in the graveyard behind the church 
high up on the hillside ; no travellers stop within 
the doors, the ghost rats are dead, the spinning- 
wheel is gone, but the garden still blossoms with 
eternal youth. Though children no longer gather 
rose leaves for Rose tobacco, the " Roses of Yester- 
day " bloom every year ; and each June morn, " a 
thousand blossoms with the day awake," and fling 
their spicy fragrance on the air. 



Index 



Abbotsford, Ivy from, 62 ; sun-dial 

from, 219, 377. 
AchillEea, 238. 
Aconite, 266. 

Acrelius, Dr., quoted, 208. 
Adam's Needle. Sec Yucca. 
Adlumia, 183. 
Agapanthus, 52. 
Ageratum, as edging, 60, 2f-^. 
Ague-weed, 146. 
Akers, Elizabeth, quoted, 152. 
Alcott, A. B., cited, 120. 
Alka, 359. 

Alleghany Vine. See Adlumia. 
Allen, James Lane, quoted, 195. 
Almond, flowering, 39, 41, 159. 
Aloe, 429. 

Alpine Strawbe'rries, 62. 
Alstroemeria, 438. 

Alyssum, sweet, 59-60, 179 ; yellow, 137. 
Ambrosia, 48, 235 et seq. 
Anetnone japonica, 67, 187. 
Annunzio, G. d', quoted, 94. 
Apple betty, 211. 
Apple butter, 212-213. 
Apple frolic, 211 et seq. 
Apple hoglin, 211. 
Apple-luns, 209. 
Apple mose, 209. 
Apple moy, 209. 
Apple paring, 207. 
Apple pie, 208. 
Apple sauce, 213. 
Apple slump, 211. 
Apple stucklin, 211. 
Apple tansy, 209. 



Aquilegia, 260. 

Arabis, 47. 

Arbors, 384. 

Arbutus, trailing, 166, 291, 299. 

Arches, 384, 387, 418. 

Arch-herbs, 384. 

Arethusa, 247 et seq., 295, 299 et seq. 

Arlington, pergola at, 385. 

Arnold, Matthew, quoted, 225, 226. 

Ascott, sun-dial at, 98. 

Asters, 179, 180. 

Athol porridge, 393. 

Azalea, 16. 

Baby's Breath, 257. 

Bachelor's Buttons, 52, 176, 265, 291. 

Back-yard, flowers in, 154. 

Bacon-and-eggs, 138. 

Bacon, Lord, cited, 44-45, 55, 56, 144. 

Balloon Flower. See Platycodon 

grandiflorum . 
Balloon Vine, 183-184. 
Balsams, 257. 
Baltimore Belle Rose, 468. 
Bancroft, George, Rose Garden of, 471. 
Banksia Rose, 463. 
Bare-dames, 17. 

Barney, Major, landscape art of, loi. 
Bartram, John, 12. 
Basil, sweet, 121 et seq. 
Battle of Princeton, 78. 
Batty Langley, cited, 383. 
Bayberry, 302. 
Beata Beatri.K, 380. 
Beaver-tongue, 347-348. 
Beech, weeping, 231. 



479 



480 



Index 



Bee-hives, 354, 391 et seq. 

Beekman, James, greenhouse of, 19. 

Bee Larkspur, 265, 268. 

Bell-bind, 181, 182. 

Bell Flower, Chinese or Japanese. See 

Plalycodon grandijlorum . 
Belvoir Castle, Lunaria at, 171-172. 
Bergamot, 166. 

Bergen Homestead, garden of, 23. 
Berkeley, Bishop, Apple trees of, 194- 

195- 
Bitter Buttons. See Tansy. 
Bitter-sweet, 25, 238. 
Black Cohosh, 423-424. 
Black Roses, 466. 
Bleeding-heart. See Dielytra. 
Blind, herb-garden for, 131. 
Bloodroot, 154, 457. 
Bluebottles, 265. 
Blue-eyed Grass, 278-279. 
Blue-pipe tree, 144. 
Blue Roses, 253. 
Blue Sage, 264. 
Blue Spider-flower, 435. 
Bluetops, 265. 
Bluets, 260. 

Blue-weed. See Viper's Bugloss. 
Blush Roses, 466. 
Bocconia. See Plume Poppy. 
Boneset, 145 et seq. 
Bosquets, 387. 
Botrys. See Ambrosia. 
Boulder, sun-dial mounted on, 377. 
Bouncing Bet, 52, 450. 
Bourbon Roses, 467. 
Boursault Roses, 48, 463. 
Bowers, 385. 
Bowling greens, 240. 
Bowne, Eliza Southgate, diary of, 31. 
Box. See Chapter IV.; also 29, 47, 

48. 54. 59. 71. 80, 112, 338. 
Break-your-spectacles, 265. 
Brecknock Hall, Box at, 103-104. 
Bricks for edging, 59, 71 ; for walls, 71- 

72, 412 et seq. 
Brier candy, 473. 
British soldiers, graves of, 77 et seq. 



Broom. Sec Woad-waxen. 

Broughton Castle, Box sun-dial at, 97, 
98. 

Brown, Dr. John, cited, 103. 

Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, 306. 

Brunelle. See Prunella. 

Buck-thorn, 387, 407. 

Bulbs, 157. 

Burgundy Roses, 465, 466, 467. 

Burnet, 305. 

Burnet-leaved Rose, 466. 

Burroughs, J., quoted, 195, 451-452. 

Burying-grounds, Box in, 94; Dog- 
wood in, 155; Thyme in, 303; 
Spurge in, 434. 

Butter-and-eggs. See Toad-flax. 

Buttercups, 166, 291, 294. 

Cabbage Rose, 297, 320, 459, 460, 471. 

Calceolarias, 179. 

Calopogon, 247. 

Calycanthus, 297. 

Cambridge University, sun-dial at, 97. 

Camden, South Carolina, gardens at, 

IS- 
Camellia Japonica, 16. 
Camomile, 192. 
Campanula, 52, 262. 
Candy-tuft, as edging, 59. 
Canker-bloom, 465. 
Canterbury Bells, 34, 162, 262, 333 et seq. 
Caraway, 341, 342. 
Carnation, green, 239. 
Catalpas, 26, 31, 293. 
Cat-ice, 453. 
Catnip, 315. 
Cat road, 452. 
Cat's-fancy, 315. 
Cat-slides, 453. 
Cat-sticks, 453. 
Cedar hedges, 387. 
Cedar of Lebanon, 29. 
Centaurea Cyanus. See Bachelor's 

Buttons. 
Cerinthe. See Moneywort. 
Charles L sun-dials of, 357. 
Charles IL sun-dials of, 357. 



Index 



481 



Charlottesville, Virginia, wall at, 414. 

Charmilles, 387. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, quoted, flowers of, 

215. 
Checkerberry, 345. 
Checker lily. St^e Fritillaria. 
Chenopodium Botrys. See Ambrosia. 
Cherokee Rose, 468. 
Cherry blossoms, 158, 193, 197. 
Cheshire, Connecticut, Apple tree in, 

194. 
Chicory, 266 ei seq. 
Chinese Bell Flower. See Platycodon 

gi-andijiortim. 
Chionodoxa, 137. 
Chore-girl, 393. 
Christalan, statue of, 84, 85. 
Chrysanthemums, 179. 
Cider, manufacture of, 202 et seq. 
Cider soup, 212. 
Cinnamon Fern, 332. 
Cinnamon Roses, 463, 465. 
Civet, 317. 
Clair-voyees, 389. 
Clare, John, quoted, 227, 309. 
Claymont, Virginia, garden at, 181, 182. 
Claytonia, 294. 
Clematis, Jackmanni, 182. 
Clove apple, 210. 
Clover, 165. 
Clover, Italian, 241. 
Codlins and Cream, 138. 
Cohosh. See Snakeroot. 
Colchicum, 455. 
Columbia, South Carolina, gardens at, 

15- 
Columbine, 260, 424-425. 
Comfort Apple, 210. 
Concord, Massachusetts, British dead 

at, 78 ; Sunday observance in, 345 

ct seq. 
Cooper, Susan, quoted, 289. 
Corchorus, 190. 
Cornel, 332. 
Cornelian Rose, 17. 
Cornuti, Dr., list of plants, lo. 
Corydalis, 154. 
21 



Costmary, 347-348. 

Covert walks, 59. 

Cowslips, 294. 

Cowslip mead, 393. 

Crab Apple trees, 192. 

Craigie House, 141. 

Crape Myrtle, 16, 71. 

Creeping Jenny, 60. 

Crocus, 136. 

Crown Imperial, 40; loquitur, 322 et 

seq. 
Culpepper, N., cited, 349. 
Cupid's Car, 266. 
Currant, flowering, 298. 
Cyanus, 33. 
Cyclamens, 448. 
Cylindres, 355. 
Cypress, 406. 

Daffodil Dell, 84. 

Daffodils, 137 et seq. ; 318. 

Dahlias, 176 et seq. 

Daisies, 165. 

Damask Roses, 462, 465, 466. 

Dames' Rocket, 422. 

Dandelion, 117, 135, 154-155. 330- 

Dante's Garden, 228. 

Deland, Margaret, quoted, 64, 229, 267, 

429. 
Delphinum. See Larkspur. 
Derby family, gardens of, 30-31. 
Deutzias, 189. 
Devil-in-a-bush, 435. 
Devil's-bit, 289. 
Dialling, taught, 372. 
Dicentra. See Dielytra. 
Dickens, Charles, sun-dial of, 376. 
Dickinson, Emily, quoted, 341, 417. 
Dielytra, 185 et seq. 

Dill, 5. 341-343- 
Dodocatheon, 448. 
Dog Roses, 465. 
Dogtooth Violet, 434, 437. 
Dogwood, 155. 
Double Buttercups, 176. 
Double flowers, 425. 
Douglas, Gavin, quoted, 257. 



482 



Inde) 



Dovecotes in England, 394; at Shirley- 

on- James, 394 et seq. 
Draytons, garden of, 16. 
Drunithvvacket, garden at, 76 ct seq. 
Drying Apples, 207. 
Dudgeon, 99-100. 

Dutch gardens, 19, 20 et seq., 71 ct seq. 
Dutchman's Pipe, 184. 
Dumbledore's Delight, 266. 
Dyer's Weed. See '^Voad-waxen. 

Egyptians, sun-dials of, 359. 

Elder, 304. 

Election Day, lilacs bloom on, 14S. 

Elijah's Chariot, 271. 

Ely Place, rental of, 471. 

Emerson, R. W., quoted, 138, 376. 

Endicott, Governor, garden of, 3 ; nur- 
sery of, 24 ; bequest of Woad-waxen, 
24, 25 ; sun-dial of, 358. 

Erasmus quoted, 109. 

Evening Primrose, 10, 428, 429. 

Everlasting Pea, 427. 

Fairbanks, Jonathan, sun-dial of, 344, 

358. 
Fairies, charm to see, 304. 
Fair-in-sight, 334. 
Fairy Roses, 467. 
Fairy Thimbles, 337. 
Faneuil, Andrew, glass house of, 19. 
Fennel, 5, 341 et seq. 
Fitchburg, Massachusetts, garden at 

jail, 101, 102. 
Fitzgerald, Edward, quoted, 316, 330. 
Flag, sweet, striped, 438 ; blue, 278. 
Flagroot, 343 et seq. 
Flax, 262. 
Flower closes, 240. 
Flower de Luce, 257 et seq. 
Flowering Currant, 64. 
Flower-of-death, 441. 
Flower-of-prosperity, 42. 
Flower toys, 156. 
Flushing, Long Island, nurseries at, 26 

et seq, 156, 230 et seq. 
Fore court, 40. 



Forget-me-not, 265. 

Formal garden, 78 et seq, 

Forsythia, 133, 189, 190. 

Forth rights, 58. 

Fortune, Robert, 187 et seq. 

Fountains, 69, 85-86, 380, 389. 

Fox, George, bequest of, 11 ; at Sylves- 
ter Manor, 105. 

Foxgloves, 162, 427. 

Frankland, Sir Henry, 29. 

Franklin cent, 365. 

Fraxinella, 432. 

Fringed Gentian, 265, 273, 294. 

Fritillaria, 81, 165, 446 et seq. 

Fuchsias, 52, 331. 

Fugio bank note, 364, 365. 

P'umitory, Climbing, 183. 

Funerals, in front yard, 51; Tansy at, 
128 et seq. 

Funkias, 70. 

Gardener's Garters, 438. 

Garden Heliotrope, 313. 

Garden of Sentiment, no. 

Garden Pink. See Pinks. 

Garden, Significance of name, 280. 

Garden-viewing, 338. 

Gardiner, Grissel, 104. 

Garland of Julia, 323. 

Garland Roses, 467. 

Garrets with herbs, 115. 

(jarth, 39. 

Gas-plant. See Fraxinella. 

Gate of Yaddo, 81, 82; at Westover- 

on- James, 388, 389; at Bristol, Rhode 

Island, 389. 
Gatherer of simples, 118. 
Gaultheria, 118. 
Gem of the Prairies Rose, 468. 
Genista tinctoria. See Woad-waxen. 
Geraniums, 244. 
Germander, 59. 
Germantown, Pennsylvania, gardens 

at, II, 12; sun-dial at, 371 et seq. 
Ghosts in gardens, 431. 
Gilly flowers, 5. 
Ginger, Wild, 343. 



index 



483 



Girls' Life Eighty Years Ago, 31. 

Glory-of-the-snow, 137. 

Gnomon of sun-dial, 379 et seq. 

Goethe, cited, 431. 

Goncourt, Edniond de, quoted, 248, 

249. 
Gooseberries, 338, 339 et sc<]. 
Goosefoot, 59. 
Gorse, 221, 222. 
Grace Churcli Rectory, sun-dial of, 

3^4, 374- 
Grafting, 391. 

Grape Hyacinth, 255 et seq. 
Graveyard Ground-pine, 434. 
Green apples, 200 et seq. 
Green, color, 138, 233 et seq. 
Green galleries, 385. 
Greenhouse, of James Beekman, 19; 

of T. Hardenbrook, 19. 
Ground Myrtle, 439. 
Groundsel, 292. 
Guinea-hen flower, 447. 
Gypsophila, 175. 

Hair-dye, of Box, 99. 

Hampton Court, Box at, 94. 

Hampton, garden at, 14, 58, 60, 95, loi. 

Hancock garden, 30. 

Hawdods, 265. 

Hawthorn, 292, 300. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, quoted, 153, 

299. 
Headaches, 309. 
Heart pea, 184. 
Heather, 221, 222. 
Hedgehog Roses, 464. 
Hedgerows, 399 et seq., 403 et seq. 
Hedges, of Box, 99 ; of Lilac, 143-144, 

406 ; of Privet, 406, 408 ; of Locust, 

406. . 
Heliotrope, scent of, 319. 
Hermerocallis. See Lemon Lily. 
Hemlock hedges, 406. 
Henbane, 434. 
Hepatica, 259. 

Herbaceous border, 113 et seq. 
Herber, 113, 384. 



Herbert, George, quoted, 114. 

Herb twopence, 61. 

Hermits, 245. 

Herrick, flowers of, 216. 

Hesperis, 421-422. 

Hiccough, 342. 

Higginson, T. W., quoted, 74. 

Hips of Roses, 472. 

Holly, 406. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, quoted, 91, 

139-140, 226, 268, 301, 313. 
Hollyhocks, 5, 6, 33, 52, 332 et seq., 

336. 
Honesty. See Lunaria. 
Honeyblob gooseberries, 338. 
Honey, from Thyme, 303 ; in drinks, 

393- 

Honeysuckle, 182, 332, 450. 

Honeywort, 33, 442. 

Hood, quoted, 228-229. 

Hopewell, Lilacs at, 148. 

Houstonia, 260. 

Howitt Garden, 223. 

Howitt, Mary, quoted, 326, 330, 345. 

Humming-birds, 243. 

Hundred-leaved Rose, 460, 469. 

Hutchinson, Governor, garden of, 54. 

Hyacinths, 257. 

Hydrangea, 182; blue, 260; at Cape- 
town, 261. 

Hyssop, 54. 

Iberis. See Candy-tuft. 
Independence Trees. See Catalpa. 
Indian Hill, 144, 415 et seq. 
Indian Pipe, 455. 
Indian plant names, 293 et seq. 
Innocence. See Houstonia. 
Iris, 427. See also Flower du Luce. 
Italian gardens, 75 et seq. 

Jack-in-the-pulpit, 154. 

Jacob's Ladder, 265. 

James I., quoted, 62. 

Japan, flowers from, 40, 67, 157, 158, 

406. 
Jenoffelins, 17. 



484 



Index 



Jewett, S. O., quoted, 38, 49. 

Joe pye-weed, 145 et seq. 

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, dial motto of, 

219. 
Jonquils, 318. 

Joseph and Mary, 437, 438. 
Josselyn, John, quoted, 4 et seq., 8. 
Joy-of-the-ground, 441. 
Judas tree, 158. 
June Roses, 464. 

Kalendars, 355. 

Kalm, cited, 128, 203, 408. 

Karr, Alphonse, quoted, 272, 302, 453, 

454- 
Katherine flowers, 435. 
Keats, cited, 223 ct seq. 
Kiskatomas nut, 294. 
Kiss-me-at-the-garden-gate, 135. 
Kitchen door, 69. 
Knots, described, 54 et seq. 

Labels, 217. 

Labrador Indians, sun-dials of, 359. 

Laburnum, 168, 169, 231. 

Ladies' Delights, 48, 133 ct seq. 

Lad's Love. See Southernwood. 

Lady's Slipper, 293. 

Lafayette, influence of, 241 ; dial of, 

357- 
Lamb, Charles quoted, 360. 
Landor, Walter Savage, quoted, 140, 

362-363, 415, 420. 
Larch, 300. 

Larkspur, 33, 162, 267 et seq. 
Latin names, 291. 
Lavender, 5, 33, 121. 
Lavender Cotton, 5, 61. 
Lawns, 53, 240. 
Lawson, William, quoted, 56. 
Lebanon, Cedar of, 29. 
Lemon Lily, 45, 80. 
Lennox, Lady, Box sun-dial of, 97-98. 
Leucojum, 234-235. 
Lilacs, at Hopkinton, 29, also 140-153, 

318 et seq., 406. 
Lilies, 180. 



Linen, drying of, 99; bleaching of, 99. 

Linnaeus, classification of, 282; horo- 
loge of, 381-382 ; discovery of daugh- 
ter of, 431 et seq. 

Liricon-fancy, 45. 

Little Burgundy Rose, 467. 

Live-forever. See Orpine. 

Live Oaks, 16. 

Lobelia, 33, 271-272. 

Loch, 259. 

Locust, as house friend, 22-23 1 blos- 
soms sold, 155; on Long Island, 156; 
in Narragansett, 401 et seq. ; in a 
hedge, 406-407. 

Loggerheads, 265. 

Lombardy Poplars, 27. 

London Pride, 45, 443. 

Longfellow, quoted, 141; garden of, 
102, 431. 

Lotus, 74. 

Lovage-root, 343. 

Love divination, with Lilacs, 150; with 
Apples, 205 et seq.; with Southern- 
wood. 349. 

Love-in-a-huddle, 435. 

Love-in-a mist, 435. 

Love lies bleeding, 287. 

Love philtres, 118 et seq. 

Lowell, J. R., quoted, 48-49, 89, 227, 
277. 

Luck-lilac, 150. 

Limaria, 5, 33, 170 et seq. 

LungAvort, 437-438. 

Lupines, 33, 163, 253, 275 et seq. 

Lychnis. See Mullein Pink; also Lon- 
don Pride. 

Lyre flower. See Dielytra. 

Lyres, 385, 386. 

Madame Plantier Rose, 71, 463", 464. 
Magnolia-on-the-Ashley, gardens at, 

16. 
Magnolias, 26, 71, 155-156. 
Maiden's Blush Roses, 466. 
Maize, 293-294. 
Maltese Cross, 443. 
Manheim, Rose for rent in, 470. 



Index 



485 



Maple, only Celtic plant name, 292. 

Marigolds, 33, 52, 315 et seq. 

Maritoffles, 17. 

Markham, Gervayse, cited, 40, 54, 115. 

Marsh Mallow, 434. 

Marsh Marigold, 294. 

Marvell, Andrew, quoted, 231, 239, 381. 

Mather, Cotton, quoted, 337, 342. 

Matrimony Vine, 185, 449-450. 

Mayflower, 166, 291, 299. 

Maze, described, 54-55 ; in America, 

55 ; at Sylvester Manor, 106. 
Meadow Rue, 175-176. 
Meet-her-in-the-entry, Kiss-her-in-the- 

buttery, 135. 
Meeting-plant, 348. 
Meet-me-at-the-garden-gale, 135. 
Meredith, Owen, quoted, 166. 
Meresteads, 3. 
Meridian lines, 355. 
Mertensia, 438. 
Michigan Roses, 62, 468. 
Mignonette, scent of, 319. 
Milkweed silk, 328, 331. 
Mills, for cider-making, 203. 
Minnow-tansy, 127. 
Mint family, 117-264. 
Miskodeed, 294. 
Missionary plant, 25. 
Mitchell, Dr., disinterment of, 129 et 

seq. 
Mithridate, 123. 
Moccasin flower, 293. 
Mole cider, 212. 
Molucca Balm, 436-437. 
Money-in-both-pockets, 170 et seq. 
Moneywort, 60-61. 
Monkshood, 266, 329, 433. 
Moon vine, 430-431. 
Moosewood, 452 et seq. 
Morning-glory, 181-182. 
Mon istown, sun-dial at, 359, 374. 
Morris, William, quoted, 240, 425. 
Morse, S. B. F., lines on sun-dial motto, 

363- 
Mosquitoes, 74. 
Moss Roses, 345, 465, 466. 



Mottoes on sun-dials, 88, 360, et seq. 
Mountain Fringe. See Adlumia. 
Mount Atlas Cedar, 29. 
Mount Auburn Cemetery, sun-dial at, 

373- 

Mount Vernon, garden at, 11-12; sun- 
dial at, 369. 

Mourning Bride, 297, 339 et seq. 

Mulberries, 27. 

Mullein Pink, 174. 

Musk Roses, 464, 469. 

Names, old English, 284 et seq. 
Naked Boys, 455. 
Napanock, garden at, 69-70. 
Naushon, Gorse on, 222; sun-dial at, 

374- 
Nemophila, 315. 

New Amsterdam, flowers of, 17-18. 
New England's Prospect, 3. 
New England's Rarities, 5. 
Nicotiana, 423. 
Nigella, 33, 434, 435. 
Night-scented Stock, 421-422. 
Nightshade, 448. 
Night Violets, 422. 
Noon-marks, 355. 
None-so-pretty, 135. 

Oak of Jerusalem, See Ambrosia. 
Obesity, cure for, 122. 
Old Man. See Southernwood. 
Oleanders, 52, 329-330. 
Olitory, 113. 
Open knots, 57-58. 
Ophir Farm, sun-dial at, 376 et seq. 
Opyn-tide, meaning of, 143. 
Orange Lily, 50. 
Orchard seats, 192. 
Orpine, 444-445. 
Orris-root, 259. 
Osage Orange, 69, 406. 
Ostrowskia, 262. 
" Out-Landish Flowers," 58. 
Oxeye Daisies, introduction to Amer- 
ica, 25. 
O.xford, sun-dial at, 97. 



486 



Index 



Pansies, 134, 318. 

Pappoose-ioot, 293. 

Parkman, Francis, Rose Garden of, 

471. 
Parley, Peter, quoted, 343. 
Parsons, T. W., on Lilacs, 153. 
Parterre, 58 et seq. 
Pastorius, Father, 11. 
Patagonian Mint, 347-348. 
Patience, 6. 
Paulownias, 29. 
Peach blossoms, 158. 
Peacocks, 395 ct scq. 
Pear blossoms, scent of, 318. 
Pedestals for sun-dials, 374 ct scq, 
Pennsylvania, sun-dials in, 370 ct scq. 
Penn, William, encouraged gardens, 11. 
Peony, 42 ct seq. 
Peppermint, as medicine, 118. 
Pergolas, 82-83, 3^5 ^^ ■'^'V- 
Peristyle, 389. 
Periwinkle, 62, 439 et scq. 
Perpetual Roses, 468. 
Persians, colors of, 253 ; i-)lant names 

of, 292 ; flower love of, 462. 
Persian Lilac, 1^2. 
Persian Yellow Rose, 320, 469. 
Peter's Wreath, 41-42. 
Petunias, 179, 423. 
Phlox, 40, 45, 162, 423. 
Piazzas, 388-389. 
Pig-nuts, 332. 
Pilgrim^ s Progress, (juotations from, 

201. 
Pinckney, E. L., floriculture by, 14. 
Pine at Yaddo, 90. 
Pink-of-niy-Joan, 135. 
Pinks, as edgings. 34, 47, 61, 292, 422- 

423- 
Pippins, 345. 

Plane trees in Pliny's garden, 97. 
Plantain, 197, 443-444. 
Plant-of-twenty-days, 42. 
Platycodon grandijlorum, 262. 
Playhouse Apple tree, 199. 
Pliny, quoted, 342, 349; gardens of, 

96-97. 



Plum blossoms, 157-158. 
Plume Poppy, 175 ct scq. 
Plymouth, Massachusetts, early gar- 
dens at, 3. 
Poet's Narcissus, 318. 
Pogonia, 247. 
Poison Ivy, 403. 
Polling, of trees, 387. 
Polyantha Rose, 467. 
Polyanthus, as edging, 62. 
Pomander, 212. 
Pomatum, 209-210. 
Pompeii, standards at, 87 et seq. 
Pond Lily, 345. 
Pony Roses, 467. 
Poppies, 163-164, 243-244, 309 et seq., 

431- 
Pops, 337. 

Portable dials, 356-357. 
Portulaca, 178-179. 
Potatoes, planted by Raleigh, 230. 
Potocka, Countess, quoted, 327. 
Pot-pourri, 471. 

Preston Garden, 15-16, 18, 24, loi. 
Prick-song plant. Sec Lunaria. 
Primprint. See Privet. 
Prince Nurseries, 26 et seq., 230. 
Privet, 54, 317, 406, 408. 
Provence Roses, 459. 
Prunella, 264-265. 
Prygmcn, 99. 
Pudding, 304. 
Pulmonaria, 437-438. 
Pumps, old, 67-68. 
Pussy Willows, 155, 247. 
Puzzle-love, 435. 
Pyrethrum, 242. 

Qitahbin, 419. 

Queen Anne, hatred of Box, 94. 
Queen's Maries, bower of, 103. 
Queen of the Prairies Rose, 468. 
Quincy, Josiah, 407. 

Ragged Robin, 291. 
Ragged Sailors, 265. 
Rail fences, 399 et seq. 



Index 



487 



Railings, 62. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, garden of, 230. 

Rapin, Rene, quoted, 94, 323 ; on gar- 
dens, 227. 

Red, influence of, 251. 

Remontant Roses, 468. 

Rent, of a Rose, 469 et scq. 

Rescue of an Old Place, cited, 103, 290. 

Rhodes, Cecil, garden of, 261. 

Rhododendrons, 42, 182, 244, 245. 

Ridgely Garden, 57, 60, 95, loi. 

Ring dials, 356. 

Rock Cress. See Arabis. 

Rocket. See Dames' Rocket. 

Rose Acacia, 185, 406. 

Rose Campion, 33, 174, 175. 

Rose Garden, at Yaddo, 81 et scq. 

Rosemary, 5, 55, 59, no. 

Rose of Four Seasons, 467. 

Rose of Plymouth, 295. 

Rose Tavern, 470. 

Rose tobacco, 475. 

Rose-water, 472. 

Rossetti, D. G., picture by, 380 ; quoted, 
380. 

Roxbury Waxwork. See Bittersweet. 

Rue, 5, no, 123 ct seq, 434. 

Ruskin, John, quoted, 243, 283, 255, 
279, 309. 

Sabbatia, 295. 

Saffron-tea, 118. 

Sage, 125 et seq. 

Sag Harbor, sun-dial at, 362. 

Salpiglossis, 262. 

Salt Box House, 128. 

Sand, in parterres, 56, 58. 

Santolina. See Lavender Cotton. 

Sapson -Apples, 201-202. 

Sassafras, 343. 

Satin-flower, 170 et seq. 

Sauce Saracen, 472. 

Scarlet Lightning, 443. 

Scilla, 255. 

Scotch Roses, 48, 464, 469. 

Scott, Sir Walter, sun-dial of, 219, 377. 

Scythes, 391. 



Seeds, sale of, 32 et seq. 

Serpentine Walls, 414. 

Setwall. See Valerian. 

Seven Sisters, 435. 

Seven Sisters Rose, 463. 

Shade alleys, 59. 

Shaded Walks, 64. 

Shakespeare Border, 217 et seq. 

Sheep bones, as edgings, 57-58. 

Shelley, Garden, 223. 

Shell flower, 436-437. 

Shirley Poppies, 255, 312. 

Simples, 115. 

Skepes, 354, 391 et seq. 

Slugs, in Box, 95. 

Smithsonian Institution, sun-dials in, 

357-358. 
Snakeroot, 423-424. 
Snapdragons, 33, 175. 
Snowballs, 71. 
Snowberry, 169. 
Snowdrops, 234. 
Snow in Summer, 47. 
Snow Pink. See Pinks. 
Soldier and his Wife, 438. 
Sops-o'-wine. See Sapson. 
Sorrel, 6, 240, 332. 
South Carolina, gardens of, 14. 
Southernwood, 5, 341, 348 et scq. 
Southey, Robert, quoted, 266. 
Spenser, Edmund, quoted, 54; flowers 

of, 215, 284. 
Spider-flower. See Love-in-a-mist. 
Spiders in medicine, 303, 343. 
Spiderwort, 435-436. 
Spiraeas, 189. 

Spitfire Plant. See Fraxinella. 
Spring Beauty, 294. 
Spring Snow-flake, 234, 235. 
Spruce gum, 332. 
Spurge, Cypress, 434 et seq. 
Squirrel Cups, 260. 
Squirt, for water, 390. 
Star of Bethlehem, 34, 235. 
Star Pink. See Pink. 
Statues in garden, 85, 389. 
Stockton, Richard, letter of, 30-31. 



488 



Index 



Stones, for edging, 58. 

Stonecrop, 135. 

Stone walls, 399 et seq. 

Strawberry Bush. See Calycanthus. 

Striped Grass, 438-439. 

Striped Lily, 61. 

Stuyvesant, Peter, garden of, 18-19. 

Succory. See Ciiicory. 

Summer-houses, 392. 

Summer Roses, 468. 

Summer savory, 124. 

Summer-sots, 17. 

Sun-dials of Bo.x, 62, 80, 87, 88, 97 et 

seq. 
Sun-floweis, 178, 287. 
Sunken gardens, 72-73. 
Sunshine Bush, 189. 
Swan River Daisy, 263, 264. 
Sweet Alyssum. See Alyssum. 
Sweet Brier, 6, 25, 48, 302, 464, 

465- 
Sweet Fern, 2. 
Sweet Flag, 343. 
Sweet |ohns, 285. 
Sweet Marjoram, 124. 
Sweet Peas, 33, 178, 224. 
Sweet Rocket, 34. 
Sweet Shrub. See Calycanthus. 
Sweet Williams, 34, 162, 285 et seq. 
Sylvester Manor, gardens at, 104 et 

seq. 
Syringas, 71. 

Tansy, 6, 126 et seq. 

Tansy bitters, 128. 

Tansy cakes, 128. 

Tasmania, Thistles in, 26. 

Tea Roses, 320, 469. 

Telling the bees, 393. 

Temperance Reform, 204. 

Tennyson, on blue, 266; on white, 

420-421 . 
Thaxter, Celia, cited, 311. 
Thistles, in Tasmania, 26. 
Thomas, Edith, quoted, 229. 
Thoreau, H. D., quoted, 148, 197, 198, 

199. 27s. 276, 345, 346, 417. 



Thoroughwort, i/^e^efseq. 

Thrift, sun-dials in, 97 ; as edging, 61- 

62. 
Thyme, 34, 60, 302 et seq. 
Tiger Lilies, 45, 162. 
Toad-flax, 450 et seq. 
Tobacco. See Nicotiana. 
Tongue-plant, 347-348. 
Topiary work in England, 408; at 

Wellesley, 409 et seq. ; in California, 

412. 
Tradescantia. See Spiderwort. 
Trailing Arbutus, 299. 
Traveller's Rest, sun-dial at, 350, 370. 
Tree arbors, 199, 384-385. 
Tree Peony. See Peony. 
Trillium, 154, 457, 458. 
Trumpet vine, 449-450. 
Tuckahoe, Box at, 102, 105. 
Tudor gardens, 55. 
Tudor Place, garden at, 103. 
Tulips, 18, 138, 168. 
Turner, cited, 61, 236. 
Tusser, Thomas, quoted, 115. 
Twopenny Grass, 61. 

Valerian, 34, 313 et seq. 

Van Cortlandt Manor, garden at, 20 et 
seq. 

Van Cortlandt, Pierre, 21. 

Vancouver's Island, 26. 

Van der Donck, Adrian, quoted, 17-18. 

Velvet Roses, 466. 

Vendue, 50-51. 

Venus' Navelwort, 33, 441-442. 

Versailles, Box at, 97. 

Victoria Regia, 74-75. 

Vinca. See Periwinkle. 

Viola tricolor, 134. 

Violets, edgings of, 71 ; in backyard, 
154; gallant grace of, 166; scent of, 
259. 317-318. 

Viper's Bugloss, 273-274. 

Virginia Allspice. See Calycanthus. 

Virginia, sun-dials in, 369-370; Rose- 
bowers in, 385 ; lyres in, 385. 

Virgin's Bower. See Adlumia. 



Index 



489 



Wake Robin. See Trillium. 

Walden Pond, 198, 345. 

Walpole, New Hampshire, garden in, 
237 <•/ seq., 464 et seq. 

Walton, Izaak, 127. 

Wandis, 62. 

Warwick, Lady, sun-dial of, 98; gar- 
dens of, 84, 85, no; Shakespeare 
Border of, 217. 

Washings, semi-annual, 99. 

Washington, Betty, sun-dial of, 370. 

Washington Family, in England, 367 ; 
sun-dial of, 367 et seq. 

Washington, George, sun-dials of, 357, 
368. 

Washington, Martha, garden of, 12- 

13- 
Washington, Mary, sun-dial of, 369; 

garden of, 370. 
Wassailing, 206. 
Waterbury, Connecticut, sun-dial at, 

379- 
Waterford, Virginia, bee-hives at, 393. 

Water gardens, 73-74- 

Watering-pot, 391. 

Watson, Forbes, cited, 425, 433. 

Waybred, 443-444. 

Weed-smother, 300. 

Weeds of old garden, 8, 48, 52. 

Wellesley, gardens at, 409 et seq. 



Well-sweeps, 68, 390. 

White animals on farm, 416 et seq. 

White Garden, 415 et seq. 

Whitehall, home of Bishop Berkeley, 

194. 195- 
White Man's Foot, 443-444. 
White Satin, 170 et seq. 
White, value in garden, 157, 255, 419. 
Whiteweed, 291. See Oxeye Daisy. 
Whitman, Walt, quoted, 152-153. 
Whittier, J. G., sun-dial motto by, 

373-374- 
Wild gardens, 237 et seq., 453-454- 
Wine-sap. See Sapson. 
Winter, in a garden, 327 et seq. 
Winter posy, 131. 
Winthrop, John, quoted, i, 3. 
Wistaria, 166, 182, 188 etseq., 232. 
Woad-waxen, 24, 25. 
Wordsworth, W., quoted, 193. 
Wort, 113. 
Wort-cunning, 113. 

Yaddo, garden at, 81 et seq. 

Yew, 406. 

York and Lancaster Rose, 62, 460 

et seq. 
Yucca, 293, 429-430. 

Zodiac, signs of, on sun-dial, 376. 



By the Same Author 



Home Life in Colonial Days, ;^2.50 
Child Life in Colonial Days, ;$2.50 
Stage Coach and Tavern Days, $i.^o 









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